As Dark As Knight
by Thedarkknight17
Summary: After a nearly life threatening injury at the hands of the Joker, Bruce seriously begins to rethink his whole role as Gotham's vigilante, until something happens that causes him to go against his new decision to pack away the cape and cowl.
1. A Shot In The Dark

**As Dark As Knight**

**By:Thedarkknight17**

**Disclaimer:**

I own nothing of Batman, from the first comic to the latest movie, they are entirely someone elses creations.

**Summary:**

After a nearly life threatening injury, Bruce seriously begins to rethink his whole role as Gotham's vigilante, until something happens that causes him to go against his new decision to pack away the cape and cowl.

**Author's Notes:**

So here is my first crack at a Batman fanfict. As you can see I do have another penname that I have two other stories under, so if you like this one, go check out the other two:). Batman has been my all-time favorite superhero since I was 5 so I hope this story does him Justice. As Dark As Knight is meant to be read as a story in-between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. Kind constructive criticism is very welcome. Enjoy!

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-Part One-

A Shot In The Dark

That haunting laugh. It had echoed in Bruce's mind ever since he had regained consciousness, and it killed him to know that there was no escape from it. He sat in the corner of a damp basement, unsure of where he was or how long he had been there, but judging from how badly his body was aching, he had been unceremoniously dragged to his current location. The darkness that filled his senses normally would have been a comfort to him, but now it only fed his already racing thoughts, threatening his usually calm disposition. The darkness, after all, was Batman's greatest ally. In an unfamiliar situation, however, much like the one he was in now, Bruce knew how quickly the shadows could become his most dangerous enemy.

His utility belt was gone but that didn't surprise him, and he smirked at himself for even thinking it would be there. In fact he would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea if it wasn't for the constant maniacal cackle above, that had yet to cease. Bruce sighed and moved to rub the bridge of his nose, hoping to subdue the throbbing pain he felt in his head. That was when he felt it, the familiar stiffness on his face and neck. The cowl. It was still resting lightly upon his head and shoulders, but why? It was strange that the cowl, the only thing protecting his identity was still there. That was, next to his belt, the most important thing that someone could take from him. He was puzzled, and Bruce, despite his current situation couldn't help but think back to the night Lieutenant Gordon almost revealed Batman's true identity.

The thief had been quick, using fire escapes and roof tops to get away, but Batman, of course, could not be out run that simply. After several attempts to verbally stop the man, Bruce took the most accurate action possible, he jumped down, pulling the thief with him. The end result of that chase resulted in Batman and the criminal diving off of the fifth floor fire escape of an apartment building. The robber landed face first on the pavement below, and he wasn't moved until the paramedics lifted him off the ground. Bruce, however, managed to land behind a dumpster, slamming his head into it. Fortunately, he came around before Gordon had gotten the cowl off completely. Bruce, acting quickly, gripped the officer's hands and pulled the mask back down before anything had been revealed. Gordon stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, apparently shocked at the Bat's quick movements. Bruce didn't mean to scare the officer and quickly fled the scene. He knew that Gordon had just wanted to make sure Batman's head was ok, but it was still a very close call.

The awful laugh erupted from above him again, pulling him out of his thought induced stupor. Where it was coming from he didn't know, but it made him nervous. Not the laugh itself, but the way it sounded. There was nothing funny about it, it was mad, uncontrollably mad. Then it hit him, if he had his cowl, he had his headset.

"Alfred…Alfred…"

Silence. Not a peaceful silence either. Bruce was hearing the kind of silence one experiences when one walks through a house after a fire. An experience he had the opportunity to endure only several months before, and he knew it to be a devastating silence. He shook the feeling off and raised his hand up to find the graphite 'ears' on his cowl missing. Suddenly, a beam of light assaulted his senses causing him to shy away and cover his eyes with his arms. Bruce's headaches always felt much worse in the light, and just because he was Batman today didn't mean they hurt any less.

"So, our little bat is awake." That voice, it was the one the laugh belonged to, the one that Bruce had been searching for ever since that night on the roof top with Lieutenant Gordon.

"Joker…" it was barely a whisper, but Bruce could still make out the red lips cracking further at the mention of his name, revealing a set of yellow teeth.

"You sound so… upset, Batman… but don't you worry. You'll be screaming my name soon enough, and not just in anger, but in anguish." The Joker's voice had lost it's playful tone and taken on a more malicious one. "You see, we, that is every other crime boss in this pathetic city, have been taking the wrong approach to Gotham. But I'm here to… how can I put this simply… lead the offence!" He shouted the last phrase, but Bruce didn't even flinch. The Joker found this amusing, and he quickly decided to abandoned his position in the blinding light, swiftly approaching the Bat. Bruce was preparing for the worse, he was hurt, hurt more than he even wanted to admit to himself, and now this maniac was quickly closing the distance between them.

The Joker was a very odd man. Not much taller than Bruce, he smelled of sweat and the rivulets had left tiny track marks in the white makeup that he sported. His face was marred, cut and sutured to give the appearance of a perpetually grotesque smile. But none of this frightened Batman. What worried him was his eyes. They were cold and amused all at the same time. He was seriously enjoying this, that was what scared him. That laugh and those eyes, they belonged to not a man, but a monster. A monster who truly took joy from pain and basked in the idea of mayhem.

"So, you're it? Gotham's own crowned prince of darkness? You're the Dark Knight?" He laughed and it took Bruce every bit if self control he had to remain calm. The Joker noticed this and smiled.

"Are you going to hit me…Batman?" Amusement was laced through every word. "Go ahead, HIT ME!" The Joker's face was close enough for Bruce to be able to feel his breath. It was hot and unpleasant, much to his chagrin. Again, the Joker laughed, but this time Batman had had enough. Something had snapped, and he placed on that white face a very well deserved right fist, slamming it directly into that crooked smile. The cackle stopped, and the Joker stumbled away before falling to his knees. The blood that ran out of his mouth at first blended in with the bright red face paint until it spilled down his chin, where it stood out terribly against the stark white makeup.

"When I said hit me…" The voice was muffled by the ruby liquid, so he spit, covering Batman's boots in blood. Distracted by the disgusting act, Bruce didn't see the Joker slip a revolver from his purple sleeve into his gloved hand. The Joker rose and crouched back down in front of the Bat. "I didn't mean it." With those words he fired the gun into Bruce's leg, leaving a huge gaping wound behind. Yelling out in pain, Batman let his guard down and grasped at his leg trying to stop the pain, 'anything but a straight shot' he thought helplessly. The Joker wasted no time and began viciously beating Bruce's head. The mad man hit him harder and harder until the Bat's body fell limply to the side. The Joker, seeing that he had made his point, rose from the ground and brushed himself off.

"Now you go home… and you think about what you've done." With a smile he kicked the unconscious bleeding body before turning around, walking back out, and closing the door behind him, once again leaving Bruce Wayne in darkness, unconscious and quickly slipping into shock.

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I hope that this chapter sparked some interest in some of you! If you liked it, please keep reading... and maybe even leave a review :) The next post should be up shortly. And to all of you that are going to see The Dark Knight tonight, have an awesome time!! It really is going to be great.


	2. A Close Call

So here's the second chapter of As Dark As Knight, it has been slightly adapted to fit the movies a little better. I saw TDK twice to get a feel for the Joker, what he represented, the relationship between the characters, and the darkness of the film. I hope that the rest of this story will reflect that.

Part 2

A Close Call

Alfred, abandoning the car, didn't know whether to cry or vomit at the sight of his charge. It was raining hard now, and lightning light up the sky in the dark alley revealing a broken black form. He had been searching for several hours now, and simply, by the grace of God, had decided to look one final time in the place where he first lost radio contact with Bruce. It was here, in a mess of mud, water and blood he had discovered the young man's battered body. Thunder cracked loudly, tearing through the deadly silence that radiated throughout the alleyway.

He left the Rolls running and carefully, in one swift movement despite his age and the heaviness of his burden, lifted Batman into the back seat. Blood, thinned out by the rain, spilled onto the rich leather staining it a shade of crimson. The stream of red then proceeded to run down, in thin rivulets, where it began soaking the thick plush carpet, but it didn't matter. Things could be replaced, the precious life that was now slipping away in the back seat could not.

The tinted windows would take care of any suspicious onlookers, so Alfred, not able to bring himself to check for a pulse, sped off. But he did not travel in the direction where Wayne Manor was currently being rebuilt. The location of the place he and Bruce had affectionately christened the Bat Cave, was to far away for an injury of this magnitude. They needed somewhere close, and Alfred knew just where to go.

They had been in the process of moving everything out of the old location into a temporary new one. Thankfully, they had already shipped the medical supplies over to their current base of operations, an old cement factory recently acquired and adapted for 'use' by Wayne Enterprises. Using the car phone, Alfred nervously dialed an old friend's number. Lucius Fox's number to be exact. Alfred knew that Bruce trusted Mr. Fox, but he also knew that Lucius had never really 'seen' Bruce as Batman. This would be the first, but as Alfred hung up the phone after describing the emergency and where to go, he had no second thoughts. If anyone could save Bruce's life now, it was up to the two of them, and it no longer mattered whether or not Batman's identity was shared with another person. If they failed, there would no longer be an identity to keep secret.

* * *

Two shots rang out in the dark.

A string of pearls, a gift from his father to his mother, now lay scattered in the street. Cut loose from each other, they were divided as if they had simply fallen from the sky that way. Divided like the small family that had been broken there that night. The precious stones lay still, like ice does after a hale storm. So still, and they are growing cold. The warmth his mother's neck had once provided was fading away, much like it was in her own lifeless cheeks.

Her screams still seem to echo, at least in his mind they do, but a shadow soon approaches. A smeared face of white black and red, and that laugh…that awful laugh…

* * *

Bruce awoke from his dream in a panicked state. He didn't know where he was, but soon found himself struggling violently to breath against a ventilator, that until now, had been the only thing keeping him alive. He quickly reached for the tube that was firmly taped to his mouth, and was about to rip it out until he felt a strong hand gently but firmly grip his own, guiding it away.

"Mr. Wayne, it's ok, breath with the machine, don't fight it. Your safe now. I'll check your pulse/ox, and if it is high enough, I can take the tube out immediately. For now, just try to rest." Bruce knew that voice, but was it real? If it was, that would mean one more person was now fully immersed in his world of secrets; they now shared in his world of lies. When he opened his eyes, Lucius Fox was indeed staring back at him. Seeing the panicked look on the young man's face fade away, Lucius couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. He honestly didn't think he and Alfred could save Bruce several days ago, but thankfully he had been wrong.

The lights were dim, and it took time for his eyes to adjust. Looking to his left, past Lucius, who had gone back to work over a stainless steel equipment table, Bruce saw Alfred lying on a makeshift bed. His old friend looked horrible, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt inside for putting Alfred through all this grief. He deserved better than this, and Bruce closed his hazel eyes tightly, unable to look at what he, no, what Batman was doing to all of them. It was a crime, but then again who was Batman? A vigilante…and when it all came down to it he really was just another law breaker… a criminal. A shadow passed in front of Bruce's eyes and he opened them to find Lucius standing over him, a syringe in hand.

"A muscle relaxer, I just want to get that tube out of your throat." The young man nodded, but he quickly stopped when the motion caused him to become dizzy. Lucius, after flushing the man's IV, carefully pushed the clear medicine into the tubing, and within minutes, the tension that Bruce had been experiencing was eased. After removing all of the tape, Lucius carefully pulled the tube out of Bruce's throat in one swift movement, causing the young man to cough uncontrollably. He felt light headed after and shut his eyes until the room stopped spinning. Lucius then gently placed oxygen tubing in Bruce's nose and busied himself with removing the ventilator from the area.

When he opened his eyes again, Alfred was standing there with a tall glass of water.

"Drink it slowly, sir." He warned, and Bruce would have laughed at the way he was being mothered, but no sound would escape his lips. The cool water, however, was such a welcome feeling on his dry sore throat that he really would have choked if Alfred hadn't quickly pulled the glass away.

"Do not give me that look, I said slowly!" he chided, and reluctantly handed the water back to his scowling charge.

"How long?" Bruce rasped after he had finished the glass, and was taken back by the unfamiliarity of his own weak and broken voice. That was not the voice of a 'dark knight', that was the voice of a very injured very vulnerable human being.

"It would have been a week tomorrow. You had us both worried sick, we thought…" Alfred could not bring himself to say it. To lose Bruce, in the same fashion that he lost Thomas and Martha would be completely unbearable and, to him, simply unspeakable.

"It's ok, Alfred. I'm alright." Bruce was hurt to see his mentor in such a worried state, and all because of him. All because he had to go diving off rooftops, chasing criminals and mad men. He was selfish, and despite all the good he did, it always ended up coming back around and hurting the people he cared for the most. Selfish…

"…Mr. Wayne? Mr. Wayne, did you hear me?" Two concerned faces were staring at him, and he flashed a quick smile to put them at ease.

"Sorry, you were saying, Mr. Fox?"

"I was asking you if you remembered anything at all about what happened the night Alfred found you. Do you?" Bruce's face grew dark, and it was clear to the other two present that he most certainly did remember, and it was not a pleasant memory to recall either.

"I do, but I would…just for right now like to keep it to myself. Just till I'm ready to deal with it." The empty eyes of the Joker had been with him in his mind, haunting and tormenting. They were soulless, and right now, Bruce didn't think he was strong enough to face them. They brought back memories, memories of Chill. Seeing the concerned faces looking at him, he quickly refocused his mind and decided to try and lighten the mood.

"So, what's the damage, and when can I get up?" He tried to rise out of bed and was quickly but gently held in place.

"I don't think so, Master Wayne." Alfred said in a matter of fact tone. "Several broken ribs, a punctured lung, a gunshot wound to the right leg, which by the way barely missed your femur, a very bad bloody nose, a black eye, a severe concussion, and several hundred bruises to top it all off. You are a walking, correction, resting mess, and you will not leave this bed until Lucius or I say you can. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes sir." Bruce whispered, trying not to laugh, and he threw in a salute to make matters worse.

"Oh, I shall have to remember to thank God tonight that he spared you and left your sense of humor intact!" Alfred responded with dry sarcasm.

"No, seriously… thank you Alfred, Mr. Fox. I think I cut it a little to close for comfort this time, and I wanted to say that I really am sorry for the pain and worry I caused you, both of you. And Mr. Fox, I am sorry that you are now fully aware of everything I have been doing for the past several months."

"Mr. Wayne, did you honestly think I didn't know?" Lucius smiled as he asked.

"No, but its like you told me before, '…as long as I don't know exactly what you're doing, when I'm asked, I don't have to lie.'" Bruce smiled when he finished, and Mr. Fox laughed.

"Right you are, Mr. Wayne…right you are."

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Hope you liked it, reviews, as always, are very welcome!


	3. Clipped Wings

I decided to post this section now because it is basically going to set the stage for the rest of the story. Enjoy!

Part 3

Clipped Wings

"Easy, Master Wayne. That's it, nice and slow." Alfred's voice was calm as Bruce prepared to stand for the first time after his 'encounter' with the makeup wearing maniac known as the Joker. His feet dangled over the side of his bed, and he relished the cool feel of the stone floor below when they finally touched down. But as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was…afraid… afraid to stand. He knew that his right leg, still healing from a bullet wound, would never be able to fully support his weight. Alfred, noticed the man's nervous stillness, and offered him some encouragement.

"Master Wayne, I am not going to let you fall. I swear to you, I won't let it happen. Do you trust me?" Bruce felt like a child, it was such a small thing, yet he couldn't do it on his own. Looking into his old friend's eyes he saw an honesty, the likes of which he could only remember receiving from his own father. He knew he would not fall, but why was it so hard to let go?

"Master Wayne…" Bruce nodded, grit his teeth against the pain, and with Alfred guiding him, he rose to his feet. He knew he would need crutches, but he could stand, and he smiled at himself for ever thinking that this would be impossible. Then he saw it, that was what Lucius had been working on for so long. In bed, his view had been obstructed, but now he had a very clear view. The bat suit was laid out. It needed heavy repairs, and obviously needed to be cleaned. He saw the blood, his blood, that had soaked into the Kevlar weaving. The fabric around the hole in the armor, where the bullet had pierced his leg, was a dark black. He had nearly bled to death alone in an alley. He had almost been killed. Batman's cowl lay cracked and broken in three different pieces. If Alfred hadn't been supporting him, he would have collapsed to the ground.

"Alfred," his voice was a mere whisper, "I can't do this anymore."

"It's alright, just sit back down sir, we can try again tomorrow." But Bruce shook his head.

"No," he said taking an unsteady step forward, "this… I can't do it anymore." He pointed to the ruined Kevlar Bat suit. Alfred was concerned, Bruce had gone deathly pale.

"Oh, that. Mr. Fox is working on it, sir. He is going to fix it, 'make it better than it was before', are the words he used." Again Bruce shook his head, and with Alfred's help he limped over to the work table where the suit was laying.

"No, you don't understand. I can't do this…" He said giving the armor a good shove causing part of the cowl to fall to the floor where it shattered into several smaller pieces. "No more… I'm finished with it. It hurts you, and me and Rachel. Why did I ever decide to go through with this? Look at me, I'm battered, broken even, and what do I have to show for it? Why did you let me go through with this, Alfred?" He shouted so loudly it echoed off of the walls. But when he looked up he saw only the patient understanding look on the face of the man that he could have very well called father. Bruce's eyes began to fill with unshed tears. "Why?" he whispered and he slowly sank to the floor next to the fragments of Batman's mask.

"Master Bruce," Alfred sighed, he hadn't called Bruce that in years, not since the day after the funeral, " Sir, I can not tell you what to do with your life, your wealth, your friends, or your power, but I will tell you this. When I held that little boy's hand after he buried his parents, I never knew that he would grow up to possess the courage and perseverance to take on every criminal in Gotham City, but I did know that he would make his parents… and me very proud. And now, today, Batman or not, you sir have done just that." Using his thumb, he wiped away a single tear that rolled down Bruce's cheek. "Now, lets get you up and about. You have a lot of work to do soon enough. After all, Mr. Fox can't possibly do his own paper work _and _make all the decisions for the head of Wayne Enterprises forever, can he?" He helped Bruce get up and walk back over to the bed. The Kevlar armor lay forgotten, Alfred would put it away later and return it to Lucius, where it would stay secret and safe.

"No, I guess he can't. Alfred…?"

"Yes, Master Wayne?"

"Thank you."

* * *

"It has now been over a month since the last sighting of The Batman, and citizens all over Gotham have been raising the question, Where has Gotham's masked vigilante gon…?" Bruce turned off the flat screen television, ending the anchor's story in mid sentenced. The man's voice was doing nothing to soothe the hangover he was now experiencing and Bruce had heard enough about Batman. Alfred, knocking on the door, entered carrying a newspaper. He placed it on the dresser and looked over at Bruce.

"Miss. Lance told me to tell you good bye, she had a plane to catch earlier this morning and… how did she put it… she didn't want to wake you. She said you looked like an angel." Alfred suppressed a laugh and Bruce threw the blankets back over his head, it was going to be a long day.

"I took the liberty of making you a bit of breakfast. Is orange juice ok, or would you prefer something stronger?" Alfred was hinting, but Bruce ignored him. He could drink if he wanted to, there was no harm in it if he did it every once in a while.

"Coffee and an aspirin would be great, and I'll keep the juice." Bruce replied, but his mind was elsewhere. 'A whole month and no sign of the Joker. Escalation is down. I knew I had made the right decision, I just needed time to prove it to myself.'

"Master Wayne, I will be running out then to drop off your dry cleaning and pick up some groceries. Your breakfast is in the dining room. Is there anything in particular you need me to do while I am out?"

"No Alfred… thank you, and don't rush back, Take some time for yourself… maybe you could try to enjoy the weather or something." Bruce suggested, Alfred really did work too hard.

"It is raining, Master Wayne, but I will try to enjoy the weather for you anyway, sir." Alfred said with a smile as he left the room.

"I knew that…" Bruce called out, as he looked out his window. "Oh, it's going to be a very long day…" All he could see was a cloudy, wet Gotham City below, but what Bruce couldn't see was how long this day was actually about to become.

* * *

I know it was short, but I hope you all liked it. I can't wait to post the next chapter! I also hope that everyone is still in the dark about where the plot is going because it just makes writing more fun :)From here on, the story is really going to start getting interesting, I promise. Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.


	4. Taken

Well, here it starts to get a little bit more... interesting. I know it seems short, but I usually keep 'em that way so I can proof better and therefore post faster. Just got back from seeing The Dark Knight for the third time and couldn't resist finishing this chapter. Enjoy!

-Part 4-

Taken

* * *

Breakfast had been good, and Bruce left no remnants of the bacon and eggs he had eaten on his plate. After draining his coffee and orange juice, he decided to look over the morning paper, but as soon as he saw the headline, "Where Is Batman?" he threw the paper down in disgust and got up from the table. He had a dinner party later that night with an important executive of a French company. They had offered to help supply the materials needed to fix the Gotham Railway at a discount. This was the second one. The first one, scheduled two months ago, never happened thanks to a homicide in the Narrows, but tonight would go on without a hitch.

Bruce sighed deeply. Had been fine for the first two weeks, but now, he found himself growing restless. His sleeping patterns, still disrupted from his night time escapades, caused him to paced the apartment late at night as if looking for something that he simply could no longer find. Restless, that was the only word he could use to describe how he felt. Bruce, trying to ignore his thoughts, walked into his private bathroom. The tile was cold on his feet, and he quickly moved to stand on the small rug located in front of a rather elegant mirror. Pulling the black t-shirt he had eaten breakfast in over his head, the thirty year old billionaire simply stared at his reflection. He saw a young man, in peak physical condition, with eyes too old and knowing for their owner. Eyes that had their innocence taken away many years before. He traced a pink line that ran from just below his chest to the very bottom of his rib cage, another close call that he had laughed about later on that same night. The bruises were gone, but the scars left over from his dark crusades were like painful memories that he could not forget. He ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted the waistband on his black cotton pajama pants. If he wanted to let Batman go, why could he not stop thinking about him. Even Mr. Fox had noticed him sporting a now quiet demeanor, and he even commented one day on his change of wardrobe at work. Bruce, however noticed it to… everything he wore was black! It was as if part of his soul had been locked away ever since the day he let Alfred return the cape and cowl to Lucius, and now, the rest of him was in mourning.

He looked away and stalked out into his bedroom. This suite, this penthouse… people were dying to get in, but all he wanted to do was get out. It was a prison. He dropped to the ground and started doing sit ups, his toned abdominal muscles flexing with every movement. Bruce stopped after sixty, laid flat out with his back on the ground, placed his hands behind his head and sighed. He felt like a drug addict, he needed Batman, but he knew Batman was bad for him. Especially now, everyone else seemed so much happier. To Bruce, their smiles weren't fake anymore. They no longer hid the worried looks from friends. After all, they didn't need to worry any more that he would one day not be able to drag himself away. That one day he would simply not return at quarter to six in the morning.

He never fell asleep in meetings anymore, and he went out every other night of the week. Still Bruce Wayne was unhappy, and even though he faked it to keep Alfred from getting suspicious, he longed to crawl back inside his Kevlar shell. Bruce opened his eyes, got up and walked back into the bathroom. Thunder rumbled outside, but he paid it no mind and turned on the water in the shower. It was hot, and it helped him relax… a little.

'Don't be selfish… everyone else is happy, you should be too.' He tried reasoning with himself. He turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waste. Thunder clapped louder this time; the lights inside his penthouse dimmed and went out.

"Great… just great." Bruce, after drying himself off, threw on a clean t-shirt and sweats in the dark and collapsed on his bed again. He didn't want to go to a dinner party; he just wanted to sleep.

* * *

When Bruce woke up, the clock on his nightstand was flashing 12:00. It was wrong and he knew it.

"Alfred? Why did you let me sleep so late? Alfred…" No answer caused Bruce to wonder what time it really was. He turned on the Television hoping to get an idea, maybe he had only been out for half an hour. It was a special report, they always put the time in the corner of the screen.

"Five thirty seven, damn it." Bruce whispered fiercely. Knowing he couldn't be late for this meeting, he began frantically dressing when he heard a clip of what the news station was playing. His heart dropped, and his fingers stopped fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt.

"Several people were taken, and we are doing everything we can to find out where they are. The Joker is considered armed and very dangerous, if anyone has any information please do not hesitate to contact the Gotham Police Department." Lieutenant Gordon looked haggard, and Bruce, shirt still hanging open, walked over to the television to turn the volume up. He studied the screen… he knew that store front. It was called Mario's, it was where Alfred usually bought the…groceries.

"Alfred?" Bruce shouted a little louder. The chances were slim, but a knot began to form in his stomach. Still no answer. It couldn't be. He ran out into the dining room, and he felt sick. The breakfast dishes were still on the table where Bruce had left them. This wasn't possible.

"Alfred!" Bruce shouted at the top of his lungs, but it was no use. No one was there… he was alone. He ran over to the counter, grabbed his cell, and dialed the number to the phone located in the Rolls. Seven rings, no answer. Bruce was growing desperate. He dialed the number to his office, and much to his relief, Lucius answered.

"Mr. Wayne, is that you? Slow down your not making any sense."

"Lucius, I need the suit again. It's Alfred… _he_ has him… and others. I need to do something about it, I can't loose him too." Bruce's thoughts were racing, if Lucius wouldn't help him no one could, and he knew Alfred would be a dead man. "…please."

"How fast can you get here?" Lucius was already making his way down to the basement.

"I'll be there in ten." But Bruce knew he would be there in five, his new Lamborghini would make quick work of Gotham's side streets.

"I'll be waiting… applied sciences, Mr. Wayne." They both hung up the phone without another word. There was no time to waste, every second that went by meant one less second searching, and Bruce knew they would need all the time they could get.

And the plot thickens... Poor Alfred, and poor Bruce... believe it or not they are my two favorite characters! Hope you liked it, we should be seeing some more Joker in the next chapter. Reviews please, there is nothing better than knowing people like your writing.


	5. Taking Back The Knight

Ooooo, more Joker like everyone asked for ;) Wrote this at work... I aim to please. Enjoy!

-Part 5-

Taking Back The Knight

Alfred could hear the others around him nervously, franticly struggling against their restraints. He had managed to loosen the blindfold easily enough and it now rested loosely around his neck. But, it was still dark. A woman somewhere in the mix of the crown began to sob uncontrollably, and Alfred wanted nothing more than to offer her a bit of comfort. He wanted to tell her it would be ok, but he wasn't a liar… and he was afraid to speak aloud. It seemed ironically strange to him that he was afraid to use the only liberty his clown faced abductors had left him with… his voice, but he was. However, he was not the only one cowering in fear, and a voice full of it soon spoke up.

"Shhh… he will hear you! He'll come back is that what you want?!" The whisper was fierce. The words, to Alfred seemed so harsh, but then again self preservation, in the face of fear often was. The sound of a bolt being thrown back caused an uneasy silence to fall over the twenty or so captives. Alfred kept losing count because no one would sit still. The woman's crying stopped, panic had stolen the very breath in her lungs away.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, This is your gracious host speaking, I hope you are all enjoying the…" The Joker paused, picked up the dirty curtains daintily between his thumb and forefinger and quickly dropped them in disgust, "…the wonderful amenities that I have provided for you." He laughed at his own retort. Alfred now understood why Bruce had been so hesitant to divulge the truth about his meeting with this fiend. He truly was a heartless maniac, and that laugh was enough to make your blood curdle. The woman who had been sobbing earlier hiccupped loudly. The Joker rounded on her and brought his painted mug within inches of her tear streaked face.

"Why, you don't look so good, blue eyes…" The Joker feigned sympathy as he took the woman's hand. She shrank back and tried to pull away, but his grip tightened painfully causing her to cry out.

"You see what I mean? That sound… it's not normal. I know what we can do…" He smiled at her and nervous tears began to fill her eyes. "Our doctor is…_very_ friendly, and I'm sure he would love nothing better than to give you a very through examination." The Joker laughed again as he attempted to pull the woman up.

"No, please…PLEASE!" She was screaming, begging even as he dragged her by her wrist toward the door.

"Now, look hear blue eyes, our doctor is very sad and lonely. Your going to have to go, that is… unless one of these other fine ladies would like to take your place. That way someone will be able to keep him company tonight…" He grinned, "and maybe tomorrow." He looked back into the group of hostages, but no one would even raise their heads, not even to look one last time into the eyes of the woman who's very life was in their hands.

"No, I didn't think so." The Joker laughed again and the woman's screams became muffled as the door closed behind them. Someone, finally mustering enough courage, shouted after him even though they all knew it was too late.

"Batman will come… He will save us!" Nearly everyone muttered or nodded in agreement.

Alfred simply shrank back further into the shadows. These people needed a savior, but he knew that no one was coming. He knew, wincing as the woman's familiar screams, though distant, once again invaded the small room, that she would not survive to see the sun rise. Just another casualty in the war between good and evil, only this time the odds were slightly stacked against good and everything that it represented.

* * *

Bruce had already put his tight fitting body suit, that would serve as his last line of defense if anything happened to puncture the tough Kevlar armor. He then pulled the chest piece over his head, sliding his arms through it, where they rested under thick but lightweight shoulder pads. The chest piece protected his arms to his elbows. The armor plated pants were next, followed by a pair of thick soled waterproof boots. Then came the bracers, newly designed by Lucius Fox. He had retired the ones given to him by the league of shadows the night after he successfully saved Gotham from tearing itself apart. They held to tightly to a memory he simply wished to erase. The cape was as light as he remembered it and he fastened it with no problem. Bruce then picked up a pair of gripped gloves. He slid the left one on, but held on to the right one. He walked over to the mirror and with his bare hand smeared black military issue camouflage face paint around his eyes. After wiping his hand off he placed his other glove on. He clipped on his utility belt; Mr. Fox had checked it over thoroughly before laying it out, nothing had been out of place anyway. Finally Bruce pulled the cowl on, it fit him so well. A demon now faced him. It was still his reflection, just his other half…in his opinion his better half.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Mr. Wayne?" Bruce turned around and saw Lucius standing there with his arms crossed.

"I don't…think so…" Bruce though had everything he needed, he had double checked. Lucius only smiled as he held up a ring bearing a single black key, and Bruce, despite the serious mission that lay ahead of him smiled. Then, like bidding farewell to a close friend, the friend being his other half, he bowed his head. When he picked it back up, Lucius was no longer looking at Bruce Wayne, he was indeed staring into the eyes of Batman, the eyes that criminals now feared.

"Thanks." His voice was dark, rough, and quiet, it was a natural part of him now, even after trying to bury it deep inside himself for a month. Without another word he took the key, jumped into the tumbler, and drove off searching for a lead on a case that had already begun to grow cold. He knew he would lose the business deal with the French company. He made sure Mr. Fox would arrive on time to deliver his apology, but it no longer mattered. He wasn't about to lose Alfred over a bunch of cheep steel and cement. The Joker once again picked the wrong person to kidnap, and Batman was not going to let him get away with it so easily this time.

Finally, Batman is back! So, let me know what you think...Reviews please!


	6. Twenty Five Days Of Death

Here is the next chapter! Its the longest one yet, so make sure you tell me what you think!

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Part 6

Twenty Five Days Of Death

There was no telling how much time he really had, so Batman parked the tumbler and decided to take a more skyward route to get to his destination. He was headed to the last place Alfred was, the place where it all started, Mario's market. Arriving at the correct building he used his memory cloth cape to glide safely down to the ground. He barely recognized the store front. It was blackened by flames from the explosion. The surroundings weren't much better; the police had, of course, made their usual mess of the scene already. He looked around, everything was covered in that ridiculous yellow tape that read 'Police Line: Do Not Cross'. Bruce smirked as he carelessly lifted the tape high enough for him to duck underneath, the thin plastic tearing in his grip from the strain. He shook his head as much as his cowl would allow.

"They waste money on this junk when they could be buying a bullet proof vest or two that could save someone else's life." He mumbled to himself, as he discarded the yellow scraps in disgust. It really was true, the police always made a mess…especially when it came to disturbing evidence…contaminating the scene of the crime. In Gotham, they were particularly good at that. Bruce took a mental note to tell Gordon about it, it only made his job harder to do.

Glass crunched under foot as he climbed the two concrete steps leading to a large gaping hole. One could only guess where the door was, if it had survived the blast at all. Cautiously, Batman entered the building, where the smell of wet cinders and ash quickly assaulted his senses. The fire had been worse then he had though, so before venturing any further, he activated a thermal visor that Lucius had recently installed in his new cowl. The thermal allowed him to look at the infrastructure of the building, allowing him to check for cracks that could compromise his mission, making the job more interesting…more dangerous. Thankfully, Bruce found no signs of severe structural damage and, switching off the visor, he began scouring the place for clues.

Something caught his eye on the charred counter, a metal ash tray. He lifted the rusting piece and frowned in disbelief. Alfred's credit card, the one linked to his account, rested innocently among the ruins. He picked it up and held it tightly in his fist.

'He had almost made it out before they came…Another minute and he would have been on his way home…'Bruce thought bitterly as he slid the warped plastic into and empty container on his utility belt. The Joker would pay.

Carefully, he stepped over fallen debris and charred rotten food. The smell was horrendous, and he would have been sick if it hadn't been for the broken window that offered a slight reprieve from the stale air. He looked for hours, sifting through nothing but rubble, for anything that would help him track down the Joker, but it soon became clear that there was nothing of value to his case here. He turned to leave, but his came snagged on something stuck to the floor. He tugged on the fabric, knowing it wouldn't tare. Suddenly, something clicked above, and Bruce just barely escaped as pounds of wet plaster and burned wood came crashing down.

Bruce dusted himself off and prepared get back to his feet, but the sight that greeted him had him doubled over as he retched. A body, hanging by a noose, had dropped down from the hole in the ceiling. The corpse had been badly burnt and the smell of decaying flesh filled the air. Batman covered his mouth with his cloak to keep from gagging. He noticed a metal box had been tied to the hands that were now devoid of any tissue. Regaining his feet as well as his composure, he contacted Lucius.

"Fox, I need policemen sent to 42nd and Race… I found a body."

"A body? I'll notify Lieutenant Gordon. Any luck with your search, Mr. Wayne?"

"I've got something… I just have to figure out how to… get it. I'll let you know what I have soon. Batman out."

Bruce used the edge of a batarang to cut the wire holding the box to the bones. He grasped the case, exited the building and headed for a dark alley across the street. The box was light, despite its metallic exterior, and he made quick work of the lock using a small pick he kept in his belt. He placed the box at the end of the alley, as far away from the street as possible. He didn't know what to expect, the Joker, after all, was psychotic. He pulled out another batarang, ad with skilled precision from weeks of target practice, Bruce knocked the lid clean off. Purple and green confetti exploded from the container and Batman stalked up to it, annoyed by the Joker's methods. He was wasting precious time with these games. He reached inside the box and pulled from it a note.

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To whom it may concern… Yes, that means you Bats! I haven't seen you in a while, Batman, where have ya been? Hiding with you tail between you legs cause old Joker hit you with a rolled up newspaper. That's what I thought… and speaking of newspaper, I hope that your wounds are healing well. Ha Ha! Oh… but seeing as how you just had to get involved, I decided to lens you a hand. Did my messanger have much to say? I couldn't get him to shut up, he was hanging around all day! Ha!

Anyway, inside of the box you will find your first piece of the puzzle. Oh, it brings back memories of when me and mommy used to find the bullets before daddy does… memories, we had so much fun.

I know you will have a ball Bats because every day you waste… one of my Twenty Five newly acquired 'friends' will die!

It's late Batman, or should I say early. Go get some sleep, you'll still have Twenty Four days to finish your scavenger hunt.

Sweet Dreams,

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The curly scripted note crumpled in his hand. A Joker card fell out, and he was just about to tare it in half in frustration when a hand on his shoulder suddenly stopped him.

"That's the first time I think I've ever surprised you." Jim said as the Batman turned around.

"Don't get used to it." He quipped back, his emotions were getting the best of him. Jim knew something was up, Batman wasn't cordial, but he was never sharp like this either.

"Thanks for the call. Anything besides the body?" Jim stepped back a little. If the Bat was in a mood he would give him space.

"Just this…" He handed the crushed note to the lieutenant, who smoothed it out on his leg before holding it up to read.

"So what's the clue?" Jim said as he finished reading. The Dark Knight had once again picked up the box. He reached in and pulled out the model of a tiny yacht.

"Gotham Marina and Yacht Club. I'll head over and check it out." Batman turned to leave but Gordon called out to him. He had been a little short with Jim tonight and decided to humor him… just this once.

"I was just wondering… Where have you been? I mean, this is the first time I've seen you in over a month." Batman resisted a smile, a good cop… he deserved an honest answer.

"I took a holiday."

Gordon closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You took a vacation? Can you do th…?" But when he opened his eyes, the Dark Knight was gone. "Guess you can… after all you are Batman."

Gordon looked down at the note in his hand. The Bat had seemed angry tonight, and unfortunately the Lieutenant had seen that vengeful look before. Batman had turned this into a personal vendetta, but why? The he couldn't help but wonder what the Joker meant by 'wounds healing'. Now that Jim thought about it, Batman's movements did seem a little stiffer even slightly more painful then they used to be. There was obviously more to this then Gordon was able to see, and for some strange reason he had a funny feeling that Batman's month long 'holiday' hadn't been spent on a beach. Jim's guess was that the caped crusader had been in bed, with an IV in one arm and bandages every where else.

"Leutentant Gordon, sir… are you ok?"

"Yeah Ramirez, I'll be fine. If were all finished here, lets wrap it up. My wife is waiting for me."

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Hoped you al liked it, reviews please.


	7. Costly Decision

**I know its short, and apoligize for any small typos, if there are any. I do have someone now who will beta my chapters, but I wanted to post before work today, and simply ran out of time. Ill be going away until monday and will have no internet access, so I worked all night and this morning to get a short, but important chapter together for everyone. Enjoy!**

**-Part 7-**

**Costly Decision**

"Boss, how do ya know that the Bat will find the clue you left him?" The Joker slipped the dim witted thug a sly smile and licked his lips. It really was hard to find good help these days, especially with the winged rodent patrolling the streets at night in Gotham.

"Stanley, Stanley, Stanley… do you remember when I told you to push Batman's unconscious…dying… form out of the back of the van and you asked… Why? Why… of all things." The sing song voice let the question hang in the air, and his grin grew wider as he pointed the barrel of a loaded pistol in between the man's eyes.

"Boss, I didn't mean anyth…" The sound of gunfire and laughter woke the hostages. Alfred looked around, the woman what had been taken earlier had not been brought back yet. He knew she was dead. He sighed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Over the course of the night, they had all been tied tightly to chairs, and spray painted with a number. That was what they were now worth. They had been marked like sheep or cattle for slaughter. It was sick.

Alfred looked down, and saw a black one and five. It stood out starkly against his wrinkled white shirt. Fifteen that seemed ok, it was somewhere in the middle, after all they had been numbered two through twenty five. Alfred got a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realized that the blue eyes woman had been number one. It was a scary thing to face your death, especially when their only hope rested in the hand's of one man, who, to Alfred's knowledge, no longer wanted to carry that burden. Still, he held fast to the belief that somewhere in the dark shadows of Gotham, a very human hero, dressed in a cape and cowl, was searching… searching for him.

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Exhaustion began to grip Bruce's body in a vice like hold. It ripped through his consciousness and he was doing his best to suppress it. The battle, however, was an ongoing one, and he was quickly losing. He had arrived at the marina ten minutes ago, and already dawn had begun to light up the horizon. Bruce thought he saw the boat that matched the model immediately, and went to investigate. It was a 150 foot yacht, and the though of searching the entire boat was a daunting one… But, he needed to save those people, and he would work as Batman in the day light if he had to. He ignored his body's protests as he carefully stepped onto the boat's polished hard wood deck.

His boots were heavy as he began examining the outside as well as the wheel house of the yacht, but he found his concentration wavering. After all, this had been his first outing as the Bat since receiving his injuries, that still caused him minor pain when making certain gestures and movements. They were still healing. He had almost died a month ago, and a speedy recovery had simply not been in the cards. He had worked hard to get back into shape, but he still had a long way to go. It was because of this weakness that he failed to see the hair thin wire that ran along the entrance into the lover levels of the grand boat. He trudged through it, and by snapping the connection, he unconsciously activated a bomb. Batman had begun searching the lower levels, but soon after hearing the odd ticking, realization hit him fully in the face and he raced back out of the boat. Bruce was thrown violently from the deck as it splintered; fire and debris rained down into the water around him. Bruce swam stiffly toward what was left of the boats previous dock, and it took every bit of strength he had left to haul himself out of the water. A pre-recorded voice erupted over the loud speaker.

"That's strike one, Batman!" You only get two more… if you fail, the marina, the boats and the clue will be destroyed along with the lives of my twenty four 'sheep'. Don't let us down, Bats." The Joker's laughter rang out as first light filled the sky. His shadow grew longer, a life had already been lost. Bruce rose from his hands and knees. He limped over to where he had left the tumbler, and clambered into the seat. Bruce couldn't work like this, and it killed him. He needed rest, and now, because of his carelessness, medical attention. His lack of focus was jeopardizing himself, but more importantly, it was putting the hostages, putting Alfred at risk.

Bruce removed the cowl, no one could see through the windows on the tumbler. He truly was their only hope for rescue. He swore softly as he cracked two fingers that had been dislocated back into place. He had jammed them on the hull of another boat, the explosion had been forcefully fierce. Bruce quieted his movements, sirens blared in the distance. He decided, against his wishes, to leave. He couldn't work in broad daylight, let alone alongside the police. He was still an outlaw, to be arrested on sight, and him being unmasked and put behind bars would not help anyone. He sighed in defeat and started the tumblers quiet, but powerful engine; the Joker had won this round. He needed to sleep, but that would mean less time to solve the puzzle… and he would be killing people, possibly killing his old friend and confident. He drove away, his cowl lay forgotten in the passenger seat, he would be back… as soon as he could get in without the police in the way. He felt sick, and it felt wrong… but he would wait.

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Yes, short I know, but hopefully you all liked it :) Reviews please!


	8. Wishful Thinking

I recently received a review from a person, who kindly let me know that I had yet to incorporate my title into the story, and that the title seemed unoriginal. I just wanted to let everyone know that I have written the last two chapters before the rest of the story, and the title does indeed have something to do with one of them, I promise :) …so patience please… after all, I'm only human and I can only post so fast, (it is hard enough staying up 'til three in the morning after a **bad** day at work to get this chapter typed so it can be posted the next day) :) But enough rambling… The next chapter after a long break…Enjoy.

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-Part 8-

Wishful Thinking

The engine went quiet, and he pulled the key out of the ignition with his left hand, the fingers on his right were too swollen to get the job done. Bruce managed to slowly climb out of the tank like vehicle, his feet hit the ground like lead. Wasting no time, he began tearing off his Kevlar suit and dropping it on the floor as he walked toward a panel of switches located on the right hand side of the temporary bat cave. He furrowed his brow in concentration, trying to remember what each of the thirty small black buttons did. It was times like these that he missed Wayne Manor, especially the south east corner. Hesitantly, he pressed the fifth one, sighing as the lights went out.

"Wrong one, Bruce. Come one, I designed this panel myself!" He chastised himself out loud, his frustration threatening to boil over into anger. At this point he was ready to simply lay down on the floor and go to sleep. He breathed in and out deeply, using the dark to refocus himself, it had been a long night, the longest he had had in a while. He again found the fifth switch and the lights returned. Three buttons later, he had succeeded in getting the 'closet' where his armor was kept out of the floor and the computers on and at the ready.

"One more…" Bruce whispered as his finger found another one of the black metal buttons. He couldn't help the smile of relief that settled itself on his lips as a hidden sofa, built directly into the wall, was slowly revealed. He wasnt sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of sweet relief. Shaking his head to clear his foggy thoughts, Bruce began to drag a large portable medicine cabinet, that he, much to Alfred's chagrin, had nicknamed Batman's 'hospital on wheels', over to the plush couch. He peeled off his skin tight body suit, replaced it with a pair of loose fitting sweat pants, and proceeded to crash on the soft cushions. He sighed deeply, full of relief and opened the second drawer of med kit. Bruce then, pulling out two finger splints and some white tape, began tending two his two previously dislocated bruised digits.

After finishing, he checked himself over, making sure none of his older cuts had opened after the blast, in particular the gun shot wound. He removed the bandage and was pleased to see that it was ok, only a little blood was seeping from the stitch holes. He quickly cleaned and bandaged it, wrapping the wound with several yards of pearly white gauze. The stitches would need to be removed from it soon anyway, and in the back of his mind he silently though about having to do the job himself, without Alfred. Bruce pushed the thought away and moved onto an area that wasn't causing him mental pain, but serious physical pain. He probed his right side, and hissed when he hit a particularly tender area, immediately knowing he had once again broken the two ribs that had only just healed recently from the month before. It had most likely happened during the explosion that had sent him crashing into the hull of the other boat. Sitting up tall and taking out a large Ace Bandage, Bruce tightly wrapped his chest to mid abdomen with it, and, after securing the end of the strip, he closed the med kit up, pushing it away.

Reluctantly, he got to his feet. He swayed unsteadily and had to stop moving. Once the room had stopped spinning, he turned to begin picking his armor up, where he hung it up on the steel form hanging inside the hidden closet that came up out of the floor. It still felt wet from his swim, but he didn't care at the moment, despite the fact that he knew he would be sorry when he had to pull it on later that night. He placed the cowl inside as well and glanced over at the clock on the large computer. 6:45 AM. He walked back to his makeshift bed and sat down, placing his head in his hands. He never knew how much Alfred did for him after he came home from his 'nighttime forays'. Bruce suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of guilt for never really thanking the man for all he did. Staying up late, worrying, cleaning the penthouse as well as the bat cave, not to mention stitching his young master up, sitting with him when he was concussed and needed someone to keep him awake, and finally, the one that meant the most to Bruce, just listening to what he had to say, no matter how little or unimportant it seemed to be. Bruce laid his head down on the comfortable armrest that would serve as his pillow for the night, he was exhausted.

Now, Bruce Wayne wasn't much for prayer, not since that night his parents died, had he uttered a word toward the sky. Today, however, as he laid there, he prayed with all his might for Alfred… he prayed for all the lives that might be lost because of him, and he prayed for himself, that he have the strength to do what ever might be necessary to save the people of Gotham, even if it meant he had to take down the Joker himself, permanently. Bruce thoughts raced ahead of him, and he was quickly on his way to becoming an emotional mess, someone out there would die because of his humanity... because he needed sleep. He closed his eyes, trying to erase the tormenting thoughts that bombarded his consciousness, and soon fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Bruce opened his eyes, he almost expected there to be a warm blanket on his shoulders and to have Alfred bustling around, complaining about him not coming home last night. He almost wanted to believe that it had all been a bad dream, but he woke up cold, no blanket covered his bare torso, everything was just as he had left it… and he was alone. He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair, it would have simply been too good to be true. Turning toward the large screen computer monitor, he quickly located the time. It was 2:23 PM. Bruce jumped up, cursing at the pain that shot through his ribcage, and quickly grasped his phone. He needed to call Lucius, he wasn't coming in today, or the next for that matter.

"I expected that, Mr. Wayne." His voice was quiet but kind, he understood.

"Thank you, Mr. Fox… tell them I'm sick, or something… maybe that I left for Europe... I don't know what I would do without you." Bruce replied.

"Your welcome, Mr. Wayne. So, I assume that we will be speaking again just before sunset?" Bruce could tell the other man was smiling even without seeing his face.

"I guess you're right, Mr. Fox… I'll talk to you later, then?" Bruce knew he could count on Lucius.

"You will...Good bye, Mr. Wayne… and try to get some rest, you sound exhausted."

"I will, thanks again, Lucius." Bruce hung up the phone and started getting dressed while he hungrily tore into a power bar he had found in the top drawer of a tool chest. That would have to be enough, he didn't have time to cook breakfast, and in all honesty didn't feel he deserved it. After all, Alfred was still out there along with 23 others. He walked his motorcycle over to the elevator shaft. Then, Bruce carefully slipped the toy boat into a pocket on his leather jacket, and grabbing a helmet and backpack, he left. He couldn't wait for nightfall. He needed to work fast, and the police would be long gone by now.

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Bruce, who would I pick on without you? And the sad thing, believe it or not, is that he is my favorite character and, yes, I do pick on him the most! :) Hope you all liked it, reviews please!


	9. Not The Hero They Needed

I know it's a short one, but yeah… I had a very interesting night at work, I got the crap kicked out of me and have a very large bruise on my cheek to prove it… who knew hospital patients could be so dangerous? well, I know now... But enough about my problems… here is the next chapter… hope all of you that wanted more Joker and Alfred are happy with it :) enjoy…

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-Part 9-

Not The Hero They Needed

The Joker's hand curled into a tight fist, anger evident in every fiber of his body, the only exception being the bright red permanent grin that marred his face. The batman was moving too fast, he was ruining all the fun! His purple gloves shone dully in the fluorescent glow of the dirty apartment, and for a minute he watched the bulb's reflections as they danced on the smooth leather surface. He laughed, just to hear the grating sound. It played like music to his ears, it helped him relax. He licked his lips, pulled out a pocket knife, and once again began studying the reflections, only this time in the polished surface of the blade. His dark eyes lingered on the sharp edge of the knife, the very edge that had given him his cherished smile. He stood up, the old wooden floors groaning under his weight. He cocked his head to the side, even the floors had a voice, the boards themselves chuckled as his feet tread upon them. He threw back the bolt, the door screeching, as if the metal hinges themselves were vocalizing the hostages own fears.

Alfred looked up into the face of panic and disorder. He felt fear, but not for himself. He knew that his body was old, broken in some aspects even, and that his death would be a serious blow to what ever belief Bruce still viewed in this world as good… but he was not scared to die. No, Alfred was afraid for the others, two young boys in particular, that were visible now that each of the captives had been tied to individual chairs. They were twins, and they both reminded him of a younger Bruce Wayne. He wondered silently if this experience would work its evil on them as well; Bruce had, after all, been just as innocent before his parents had been taken away. After that night, however, the boy had indeed changed, he became quiet, withdrawn, and his eyes had grown darker. The twins were terrified, unable to cower from the maniac as he walked by them; he had seen that same fear once before on the face of his young charge. It sickened him.

The Joker smiled as he reached his hand into a purple bag that had been hung precariously on a rusted nail that jutted out of the decaying wall. He pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper.

"Lucky number six, come on down… No, on second thought, I'll come to you, I can see your all tied up at the moment." The joker laughed, but quickly grew silent. "Tough crowd." He snickered as he cut the hostage labeled as number six loose from the chair. The man was large, nearly twice the width of the clown faced maniac, and from the looks of him, he wasn't going to go quietly. He swung at the Joker, who cackled at the attempt. Alfred shook his head, the Joker was enjoying it, he was toying with this person's life, it was all a game to the clown. The Joker ducked another fist, laughing uncontrollably, it had nearly hit him squarely in the nose.

"I'll make you a deal," he managed to choke out trying to suppress a snicker that threatened to over take him once more. "If you can kill me, all your little pals here," he gestured with a nod toward the other captives, his green tinted hair obscuring his eyes until he casually pushed it away, licking his lips as he did so, "walk out of here alive." "But," he continued in a sickeningly sweet sing song voice, "if you fail, I swear…you'll beg for death before the end, and tonight… I'm not feeling very generous. Option number two…" The Joker grinned, he would let this blond haired goliath choose for himself.

"You come and work for me. I have a job in mind for you. You see, I have this special meeting with an old friend coming up, and I recently found myself a little… short handed after Stanley's untimely departure." He snickered, his sly grin growing wider. "Well, what do you say. You cheat death and work for me, or you take your chances fighting for them? Let me tell you a little secret, me and my friends," He held up several small knives he had pulled out of his pockets, "we like to play rough." He smiled as the man thought it over, his eyes hungry for the answer. He needed the help, but a blood bath would be ok too… either way he knew he would come out on top. The Joker nearly let a sigh of disappointment escape his lips when the larger man bowed his head in resignation, the Joker knew he had won, but the idea of a fight to the death… was an interesting one.

"Ah, the selfishness of man kind, it never ceases to amaze me!" He cackled, and licked his lips as he stalked out of the room, he had work to do, and Batman was already ahead of the game. The man labeled as number six followed closely behind the Joker, much like a puppy on a leash. Several of the other hostages, enraged by his decision, shouted out at him as he left, calling him a traitor.

Alfred sighed as the door closed, he knew people were angry, but for some strange reason he found he bore no hatred for the man that had betrayed them. He was not the hero they needed right now, he was just another pawn that the Joker's twisted reason had been able to take unopposed. They would need a knight to take down the king of chaos himself; little did they all know that Gotham's own knight had just arrived, once again, at the city's marina, trading his cowl for the mask of a playboy billionaire.

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I know short right?? But I need to ice my face and sleep right now, so I hope everyone likes it so far. Reviews please :) They would make my night so much better right now!


	10. A Thorn In His Paw

The next chapter, its a little longer then the last, but still kind of short. I was thinking about combining the last one with this one, but it just didn't work out like that since the last chapter wasn't even in my original outline. O well, enough out of me! :) Enjoy…

-Part 10-

A Thorn In His Paw

Bruce carefully stepped onto the rich wooden deck of the yacht. The same one he had been closely scrutinizing for the past forty five minutes. He had to be sure it looked like the toy boat in his pocket, and it did. From the models tiny radio antennas, to the thin black pin striping that broke up the boat's gleaming white exterior, it was identical, a perfect match, at least that was what he hoped. A mistake now, without his armor would most likely prove fatal.

He searched the deck cautiously, the marina was deserted, it was fall, and most of the members of Gotham's higher society had abandoned their lavish vessels to sit in the murky water until summer came around again. Bruce sighed as he lifted the lid to the captain's storage bin, shoving life jackets out of the way, even he had a boat here…somewhere. It was really just a status thing, it had been Alfred's idea to help aide him in 'playing' the playboy. It looked… normal. A couple of girls on each arm and a fancy boat to take 'em to the Caribbean in.

"Normal, yeah right." Bruce whispered in frustration as he replaced the bright orange life vests where he had found them. He stood up, dusting off his knees and began searching for any hidden traps. Seeing none, he hesitantly headed below deck. And much to his suprise, there it was, sitting innocently on the master bedroom's silken comforter. Bruce found his ire rise as he stared at the seemingly harmless box. It hurt him to know that such a small insignificant thing could cause so much pain.

'So small...' Bruce found himself being drawn into a particular childhood memory, he remembered it like it was yesterday. His father had been called in to work late at the hospital, a bad emergency. His mother had already gone to bed. He should have been asleep as well, and he knew it. However, a much younger Bruce Wayne had been walking around his room after waking up from a nightmare, and being so young and so preoccupied with his bad dream, Bruce hadn't seen the tack on the floor. Pretty soon, Alfred had come running in to the child's bedroom after over hearing his crying.

The Wayne's butler had been fully dressed. Bruce smiled now, as he remembered, it hadn't occurred to him until years later that all of those night his father had been out working late, faithful Alfred had waited up for him to return. Bruce nearly laughed at the irony, Alfred was still staying up late, only this time to wait for Thomas's son to return. Alfred had left and returned with some antiseptic. He could still remember his old friend pulling the offending object from his foot and cleaning it. He had tried to be brave and not cry out loud as the tack was removed and the tiny wound was bandaged. Just another habit Bruce had retained into his adulthood, only now it was a test of will power whenever Alfred had to stitch him up, and the tiny cuts had grown into life threatening gashes and large purple bruises. Every wound was a challenge to be overcome... how long could he stop his eyes from watering, and keep from wincing as the needle went in and out? He could still hear Alfred's voice.

"Remember, Master Bruce, that sometimes all it takes is a thing so small as a tack to make us fall to pieces. Did I ever tell you the story about the lion, the thorn, and the field mouse…" Bruce shook his head as Alfred took out a handkerchief to wipe away some of the child's remaining tears.

"No? Well then, let's have a seat and I tell you all about it." He smiled down at the child, and Bruce obediently hopped back into bed, the awful pain had been quickly replaced with interest in the story.

"Once upon a time…"

* * *

A much older Bruce Wayne opened his eyes and again glared at the box. "Such a small thing… If a thorn can bring down a lion, then what could losing the one who practically raised me, do to me?" He whispered as he picked up the container. It was cool, and despite its menacing contents, offered some soothing relief to his two swollen fingers. He walked out to the deck area, carefully shifting the Joker's special delivery. He needed to get back to his motorcycle, it was getting late, and a change in wardrobe would soon be necessary.

As he was stepping onto the dock, however, a strong grip painfully tightened around his upper arm. He winced, and was sure that bright purple bruises were already beginning to form. Bruce quickly slid his damaged fingers underneath the box he carried, hiding them from view.

"What are you doing here, the docks are off limits!" Bruce sighed with relief, Batman knew that voice. He turned around to face one of Gotham's finest, a police officer from Gordon's unit. Mancuso… he was a good cop, honest, and he usually worked closely with Jim. The officer's jaw dropped when he saw Bruce's face and he quickly released the billionaire's arm, embarrassed.

"I just came to get a few things from my yacht. Heard that Batman was running around causing trouble, and I decided to move a few valuables to a safer location." Bruce tapped on the box lightly with his uninjured hand. "I didn't meant to cause you any trouble officer." Bruce finished, but Officer Mancuso held up his hands apologetically.

"It's ok Mr. Wayne, I'm very sorry for wasting your time. You can go." He offered a sincere smile to Bruce, who returned it.

"Thanks again, officer. Sorry I interrupted you." Bruce replied and started toward the end of the dock, but the cop called after him. He stopped dead.

"Yes?" Bruce turned around, trying to keep the nervous look from his face. He quickly wondered if he had anything on him that would put his alter ego's identity in jeopardy. But the officer didn't look inquisitive or suspicious. Quite the opposite, if fact he looked a little sad.

"You know, Mr. Wayne. You really don't have to worry about Batman… he's ok. People just need to give him a chance... he really is a good guy." The young officer offered shyly. Bruce smiled slightly to himself…a good cop.

"I'll keep that in mind." Bruce said trying to suppress a grin, and with a nod he turned around, leaving the officer to his patrol work. When he got back to his bike, he slipped the box into his back pack and started the motor. It had been easier then he though it was going to be, but the sun was sinking fast. He sighed as he pulled on his helmet, sliding the dark visor down to cover his face, there was still work to be done.

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Well, hope you all liked it… I'm off to see the Dark Knight in Imax now… this is my fourth time seeing the movie… and I'm still just as excited as the first :) Reviews would be a great surprise to come home to tonight!


	11. Who’s Laughing Now

So, here is the next post. Its short, but its good… Enjoy!

-Part 11-

Who's Laughing Now

After grabbing his utility belt and parking his motorcycle, Bruce returned to the surface carrying the Joker's next clue tightly in his hands. He was losing light fast, and with out wasting time he jogged swiftly over to where a massive crane had been abandoned, the jarring motion causing him to wince in pain as his cracked ribs were jostled about. The crane was rusted, and no longer functional, but it was gigantic. It was the kind most commonly used to clear and load the decks of massive trans continental freighters.

Bruce easily slipped between the huge piece of machinery and a long decaying wooden fence that met up with the chain link one, forming a perimeter around the entire property. No one was anywhere remotely near the area, but it was better to be out if sight. Even if it was his company's land, it would still be very strange if someone spotted the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, or anyone for that matter, walking around in a dark abandoned ship yard, alone at dusk. Bruce smiled at the thought, it was truly absurd, and the idea of even attempting to think up a cover story to use as an alibi was laughable.

Laughable… Bruce was wrenched back to reality as he prepared to open the metal box. Safety would have to take a back seat this time. He couldn't throw a batarang as accurately as before with his busted fingers, so plan B would have to suffice. He frowned, checked to make sure that he had secured Batman's belt around his waste, and swiftly kicked the lid off before he could change his mind about how safe this approach really was. Before the metallic cover even hit the ground, thick plumes of pink smoke began billowing out from the container. Bruce fumbled for his compact gas mask and had barely gotten it secure before the substance reached him. He sighed though the mask's thick filter, that had been a little to close for comfort. As the cloud flooded over him, his eyes began to water, but nothing else seemed to be happening.

" It can't be just another parlor trick, but if it's not tear gas, then what…?" Bruce's voice, muffled from his mask, faded away as the thick material dissipated. At his feet were several rats, that moments ago, had been scurrying around searching for food. Now, however they lay dead, their lips pulled tightly into a strange revealing grin, revealing yellow razor sharp teeth. Bruce kicked them away in disgust.

Leaving his mask firmly in place, he proceeded forward to examine the contents of the box. The knot in Bruce's stomach tightened as he knelt down next to the container, and it wasn't just from hunger pangs. He could clearly see a Gotham City police officer's badge laying on top of a Joker card. Picking up the note he read it, but it did nothing to alleviate the sick feeling that, over the past few days had begun eating a hole in his already hurting heart.

"If you are reading this, I take it you didn't get a whiff of my last laughing gas… pity, Batman. But, if you don't want to miss out again, I suggest you hurry over to the Gotham City Precinct. If someone else gets to the next clue before you do, the only thing you'll find the officers and detectives in the MCU can do is… SMILE!"

He needed to act fast. Tossing everything back into the container Bruce ignored his body's protests as he tore off toward the red storage structure. He quickly locked the door behind him, and the floor soon began its slow decent down into the makeshift bat cave. Bruce's worry and anger, however, soon got the better of him, stealing his patients, and he slid frantically between the still descending floor piece and the ceiling. His broken ribs shifted from being in the awkward position and the bones grinded together agonizingly. He grunted loudly in pain as he hit the floor; the metal box falling to the cement next to him with an echoing clang. Bruce wrapped his arm around his throbbing side and gasped for breath as he crawled over to where his cell phone was. He quickly typed out a warning message and sent it to Jim Gordon's private phone. Seeing that the message was received, Bruce collapsed onto his back, hugging his chest tightly as he struggled to breathe. He slipped into unconsciousness.

The spirit is willing… but the flesh is weak.

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Poor Bruce! He pushed himself a little to hard this time…I know it was short, but it was important… and I have work tomorrow, so I didn't know when I would be able to write more or even post for that matter. Next chapter will be longer with some more police action I promise… and who knows, maybe even some Joker… ; ) Reviews please!


	12. The Bat And The Box

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I really liked this chapter a lot, hopefully you will too! So enough of me…

-Part 12-

The Bat And The Box

Jim Gordon quickly gripped his cell phone before it managed to vibrate itself right off of his desk.

"One new message, ok." He was new to the whole text messaging craze, and talking out loud seem to be the only way to logically grasp the strangely complex technique. He touched the button that was clearly labeled view. A number appeared at the top of the screen, and despite the fact that it had not been saved as a contact, Jim knew who the number belonged to. It was Batman's number, and an untraceable one at that, Gordon had already tried. He quickly read the message, and nearly flipped his chair over as he stood up. He grasped his radio and set the frequency to number 7, which was commonly used for all Gotham police communication devices. Everyone needed to hear this.

"We have just received information that an… an explosive device has been placed somewhere in the main precinct. Begin a full evacuation of the building immediately, diverting everyone else to the 2nd precinct on Welsh." Jim was not about to tell them who had informed him, or what the box really contained, no one needed to know that Batman had told him the Joker had hidden a deadly chemical compound somewhere in the building. He just needed to get everyone to safety. Gordon would be going in with the swat team anyway. At least he had gotten the call out in time before someone else had discovered the Joker's surprise, Lieutenant Gordon thought as he donned his swat gear outside of the building he had previously occupied. He quickly began briefing a team for a full scale search, their target, an 18x18 steel diamond plate box.

"Approach with caution, and do not open it under any circumstance. Lets move in."

* * *

Bruce opened his eyes twenty minutes later. He didn't dare move just yet, his body ached too much to even attempt it. He sighed deeply clearing his mind. Then, using a meditative method he had be taught during his extensive travels, he focused on pushing the pain away. It was a relatively simple technique to use, but it had taken him several agonizing months to master. Soon, the sharp pains, after only several minutes, faded away to nothing more then a few dull aches.

Bruce would have been content to lay there for another couple of hours, but knew it was time to get up. People were waiting… Alfred was waiting, so filling his lungs with just enough air, he rolled over onto his hands and knees. He clenched his teeth tightly and winced, it wasn't going to be a pleasant night, but he needed to get to work, it was now dark… dark enough for Batman. He dressed slowly, silently checking the clock every so often. The next clue would need to be opened somewhere else… somewhere remote, and he knew just the place. He pulled the cowl on over his messy hair and ignoring the spasms in his side, climbed into the tumbler. He would need to pay Gordon a visit first, to pick up the Joker's 'present'.

* * *

They simply sat there and stared. It was hard not to. Lieutenant Jim Gordon, Detective Anna Ramirez and Officer Mancuso, all of them, their eyes locked on the offending sight, a metal box, 18x18 inches. Their silence filled the room. It seemed so innocent, so strange that this box could possibly contain anything but something harmless inside. Finally, someone broke the tension, it was Anna who spoke up.

"So… umm. How are you supposed to let him know you found it?" She whispered, as if a normal tone would have sent the entire building itself crashing down upon them. As she finished, however, a strong gust of wind blew through the open window, disturbing the curtains as well as some loose papers. The three of them jumped instinctively, they were all on edge tonight.

"Somehow, detective, I think he already knows." Gordon resisted a smile, he loved to make an entrance. "You two can both get out of here, you're on overtime anyway." Mancuso and Ramirez, taking the hint, stood up. The woman beat both of them to the door, and she exited without another word. Jim followed behind Mancuso, and went to shut the door, closing off the room from any suspicious late workers. But, the young officer stopped him, placing a firm hand on the chipped wood. Lieutenant Gordon looked puzzled.

"Just, do me a favor… Lieutenant, make sure you thank him." Mancuso whispered, afraid to let anyone hear him, despite the fact that the entire floor was currently deserted. His mouth nearly hit the floor as the Batman stepped out from the very shadows of Gordon's currently disheveled office, his hazel eyes flashing in the moonlight. The dark form nodded slightly to the young member of Gotham's finest.

"I think you just did, officer. Good night." Gordon smiled as he shut the door, sliding the lock into place. After the footsteps faded away, he finally decided to break the silence.

"Trouble at the Marina last night… you alright?" Jim asked hesitantly, hoping the Bat was in a better mood then he had been during their last encounter. Bruce resisted a smile.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." He sensed Gordon relax, and almost wanted to apologize for his attitude during their last meeting…almost. Jim's face, however, was another story. It was haggard, much like Bruce Wayne's had been these past couple of days. The lieutenant put his head in his hands.

"I barely got any sleep last night, I felt so guilty… you know, with the Joker's threat and all." Jim's voice was so soft, even Batman had a hard time hearing it as the masked figure walked over to examine the familiar looking box. Bruce did his best to steel his emotions and ignore Gordon's words. If Jim felt guilty, then Bruce felt like he had helped kill the hostage, himself, even if he had been too hurt and exhausted to do anything.

"I'll take care of this," Batman growled as he picked up the metal container, "And, Gordon…" Jim looked up at the sound of his name. "It wasn't you fault, we did everything we could." The tired officer closed his eyes and nodded his head in acceptnce of the Bat's words.

"I guess your right…" Jim started to say, but stopped. He was alone, the Bat and the Box were no where in sight, and the only evidence of his leaving, was the swaying of the curtain… there was no breeze to speak of that night.

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Hope you liked it, reviews are always greatly appreciated! Oh, almost forgot… If you like this story, be sure to check out my new one. If I get enough feedback on it, it could become my next longer fict! :)


	13. A Date With A Clown

Just have to say congratz to Michael Phelps!! Go USA!

A/N: It's a shorter post, but nothing I say up here matters… the good stuff is below… Enjoy! :)

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-Part 13-

A Date With A Clown

The sound's of bats echoed off of the walls, and Bruce, despite his former fear of them, felt comforted by their familiarity. He had gone back to where it had all began, on the outskirts of Gotham's city limits, the construction site of the new Wayne Manor, the real bat cave. He didn't really know what to expect, it had been a long time since he himself had last visited. He usually sent Alfred over to check on things and to transport usually nothing more than a box of supplies or two from the old location to the new. Bruce placed the box down on an examining table, the one he used to sit on while Alfred stitched up a wound or two he had received while on his nightly patrols. It had been covered with a large white sheet, the same kind that now rested on every other piece of equipment in the former underground base of operations. Bruce sighed as he removed his cowl, this was his home, and he had missed it, more then he would have liked to admit. He couldn't wait to return, but he most likely would not be able to for at least another four long, drawn out months.

Bruce tightly gripped a particularly large dust cover, and with one great tug, pulled it off of an oddly shaped machine. Bruce smiled as the sheet fell away. He had gotten Lucius to allow him to 'borrow' it indefinitely after the fear gas incident, but it hadn't been easy. It was an enormous air purifier, but it also allowed him to capture a testable sample of any gas expelled, a sample he could test and hopefully use to formulate a working inoculation for himself. Later, his research could be used to mass produce a vaccination for the people of Gotham, themselves. Typing in the correct code on the machine's small keypad, the thick specially formulated plastic door swung open, allowing him to place the Joker's box inside. He then sealed the door, satisfied it was safe after hearing a swift rush of air that occurred during the vacuum seal. He flipped a switch, turning on the machine, and using the two thick rubber gloves that had been built directly into the special plastic itself, he slowly removed the lid from the metal box.

Bruce was almost surprised when the pink gas filled the translucent plastic containing device, he half expected confetti, or worse, an explosion to be expelled from the Joker's container. The gas was finally neutralized, and a sample was obtained, the green light on the machine finally come on, signifying that it was safe to remove the container from the holding chamber.

Bruce quickly opened the door, and pulled out the metal box. He was hit with a horrific smell, one he had encountered recently... decay. Bruce dropped the box in both disgust and surprise after peering inside. It hit the ground at an awkward angle and expelled its contents on the floor of the bat cave. A woman's severed hand rolled onto the moist rock, in it's grip was a note. He nearly stumbled over his own feet as he walked over to a covered shelving unit. He lifted the sheet high enough and pulled out a pair of clear latex gloves. Rage spurred him forward, and he picked up the cold appendage. In his frustration, he pulled too hard on the thin paper and it split in two.

"Damn it!" He cursed as he gently placed the hand back into the box; Bruce used his fore arm to swipe at the nervous sweat that had begun to drip down his face and into his eyes. He then proceeded to piece together the note he had torn in two.

"Bravo, Batman! I would give you a hand, but… oh… right… I already did… Ha ha ha ha! I suppose you managed to save the police… pity, they could afford to smile a little more. They are always… so… serious! Aha ha ha! Then again… so are you, but… I am, growing tired of our little game. You are just too good, so… I think it's time we set up a play date. How about… midnight tonight, but you don't want to be late Bats. If you are, some of my previously invited guests might be forced to leave a little worse for ware then when they first arrived. So, for every five minutes you are late, I will kill… lets say one of the random twenty-five... I mean twenty-three of my friends… yes, twenty-three Batman, I couldn't let you ruin all of my fun! See you at midnight, 250 52nd street, on the third floor. Oh, and one more thing… remember, mommy says only one more guest, so you'll have to leave Gordon and his pals at home!

Bruce shook with anger, as he checked the clock on his cell phone.

11:35... He grabbed his cowl and jumped back into the tumbler, he would make it there with time to spare. While on the way, however, he made an important phone call. He was going to need more then bats to back him up this time.

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Yes, the hunt is over… time for the showdown with the Joker! Hope you all liked it! Reviews please.


	14. You Can Keep The Cowl

Finally, the showdown with the Joker… it will be two posts long, this obviously being the first. So, here it is… you've all waited long enough… ENJOY!

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-Part 14-

You Can Keep The Cowl

The loud screeching of breaks echoed inside the condemned building. Alfred peered out the window through a slit in the dirty curtains, his hands still uselessly bound to a chair. He caught sight of something, just a blur of black glinting in the moonlight.

"Batman." He breathed silently, not wanting to cause an uproar of excitement among the remaining hostages. Alfred began shifting nervously, fear for his young charge getting the better of him. His thoughts and movements soon came to an abrupt end, however, as the Joker crashed through the door. A giddy smiled danced on his lips as he skipped over to the silk bag. He jammed his hand into it and pulled out another random number.

"Number four… oh, what's this? A two for one special… price check…_please_!" Alfred cringed, it was one of the twins. The Joker leapt at the child, who did his best not to cry; his brother looked on in silence, too scared to speak. As the clown pulled out a pocket knife, Alfred mustered his courage. He would not let this maniac harm an innocent child. Everyone else had looked away in fearful acceptance, but someone needed to stop this senseless act.

The Joker moved to slit the boy's small throat, but the scream never came.

"Wait," Alfred's small but firm voice shattered the silence, not one ounce of regret could be seen in his eyes for speaking out. Gunfire erupted outside the door where the hostage were kept, Batman had finally arrived, and it was Batman that would now have to save him. "Take me instead." Alfred offered the bait, and the clown hungrily took it. The Joker released the boy with a shove and turned on the old man. Alfred resisted a shudder as one of the Joker's gloved hands wrapped itself around his throat, the other bore a knife that softly bit into the skin under his chin.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, causing everyone but the Joker to jump. The clown was too busy laughing as Batman strode out of the darkness. Bruce froze as he took in the sight of Alfred, who's very life now rested precariously in the hands of a mad man.

"Drop the knife and let him go, Joker." Batman roared, voice full of venom and fists shaking with rage. It took all his self control not to simply lunge at the Joker. The scene itself made him want to wrap his hands around that scrawny neck and squeeze until he felt the clown's neck snap, but he didn't. He knew that if he even moved, Alfred wouldn't stand a chance.

"So many demands, Bats… and you just got here. I'll… 'humor'… you. If I do let these poor souls go…_Batman_, what's in it for me?" He smiled charmingly, his words were smooth.

"They are like… like precious gems…barter for them, trade for them, save them… if you can!" The Joker ran a small blade along Alfred's chin and Bruce tightened with both fear and frustration. He knew what had to be done, and he knew it was the right thing to do. He would be the dark knight for these people, for Alfred. He would have to do the deed that, to him, seemed darker then any shadow that he had ever faced before. As dark as any nightmare he had ever been made to endure.

"Let them go, and… you can have…you can have me. I won't fight you, I'll give myself up freely. Just let them go." He growled in defiance. Bruce knew his body wouldn't be able to survive another severe beating, but if it was going to end here, at least it would be for the right reason, he would be saving lives. The room of hostages looked on in silence as the Batman bartered for their lives with his own. The Joker's smile grew wider, and Batman resisted slapping the grin right of the painted face.

"Oh playing the martyr, are you Batman? Aren't you valiant, they might as well just start calling you Christ… I can see it all now, Saint Batman. They will havet-shirts, holy cards, the real deal!" He paused for a good laugh until he was forced to grip his sides in pain. After sobering up enough, he continued. "You are willing to giveup you own life, your dignity, for a bunch of common bottom feeders. They do nothing but create problems for us. Well, for you… for me they will simply go back to ensuring that chaos will indefinitely run rampant." He licked his lips, it was a nervous twitch that had begun to get on Batman's last nerve.

"You see, it's all part of the plan… not my plan, I don't have one. The plan of… of the world. I could always use a few more fish in the sea to help spread mayhem. Its out of my hands really, I just do… kind of like you." The Joker reasoned in a sing song voice. Pleasure… he got pure unadulterated pleasure from this whole ordeal. It made Bruce sick.

"Don't compare us, Joker. We are two very different souls." He quipped, but the Joker only chuckled harder.

"So you say now, but give it time… you'll see. I'll show ya!" His gaze seemed distant and he suddenly pulled out another knife, tossing it to a blond haired man who was sitting alone in the corner. "Cut their bonds and let them go."

The man began walking over to Alfred, who the Joker was still standing next to, but the clown slapped the man's hands away.

"Not this one… them. I like this one… he's got… _spunk_." The Joker patted Alfred's head. Batman growled.

"All of them, Joker…"

"Fine, I'll just kill him and we will let the rest go…" He let the knife carve a little deeper into Alfred's neck, any deeper and…

"No… it's fine. Let him live." It didn't matter, help would be there soon… at least he hoped it would. He would just have to play by the rules, no matter how truly twisted they all seemed. After all the hostages, but one, were released and had fled, the Joker spoke.

"This wont do! You'll be… untouchable if you keep that on." The clown brandished his hand up and down in Batman's direction.

"There's an office at the end of the hallway. Take off your armor, Bats…" The clown smiled as the Batman stiffened, so he simply tightened his grip on Alfred, who did his best not to cringe. He failed horribly. Bruce dropped his head in defeat, but the Joker quickly responded, knowing what the Batman was thinking.

"You can keep your mask, and your secrets, Bats. I don't want to see your ugly mug just yet. Ha ha ha!" Bruce resisted decking the Joker, and with a final glance at his old friend, he reluctantly stormed off with a heavy heart, heading down the hallway to grant the Joker's request.

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INTENSE!! Well, next post the mayhem really begins… and it will be a lot more violent, but until then, my lips are sealed! Hope you liked it… if you did let me know… If you didn't, let me know anyway :) leave a review!

Oh, and one more thing... if you do happen upon any mistakes in this chapter or a previous one… please don't hesitate to point them out stating what is wrong and where it is located! I want to fix all errors for future readers :)


	15. Sacrifice

Finally, I am posting! 'sighs' I apologize for this being so late, but my grand mom was once again admitted to a hospital, my 2nd year of college classes start Wednesday and I just started share boarding a horse! I've simply been overwhelmed. It is a longer chapter though, and it is very good… It dos get violent, but I don't think its too bad...I hope you all enjoy it…

-Part 15-

Sacrifice

Bruce had shut the door firmly behind him. He reached back to lock it, but found the mechanism was broken. Sighing, he looked around in disgust at the disheveled office, and he couldn't help but compare it to the cities he had seen on television. The ones that had just taken the brunt of a class five hurricane. Bruce grabbed the remains of a three legged chair, using it to jam the door. He hoped it would ensure his privacy. His feet were heavy as they shuffled though hundreds of papers that littered the floor, remnants left over from the now long dormant business that had once occupied the building. The desk, itself, had been over turned, its sides bearing the marks of vandals. The red spray paint resembled the Joker's terrible grin, and Bruce found himself cringing. He swiftly looked away. The desks position, however was another matter entirely. It had been leaned on its side and was now balanced precariously against a battered file cabinet. He pulled the cabinet out just enough and slid behind it. Even if someone managed to get the door opened his face would be safely hidden by the massive metal desk.

He gripped his cowl firmly with both hands, could he really trust the Joker? As if answering his question, several gunshots ripped through the silence. Bruce heard something heavy drop to the floor outside the door with a sickening thud. A fresh pool of blood quickly began seeping under the door frame, staining the already filthy gray carpet a sickening shade of Burgundy.

"I said no peaking… but you just couldn't resist, now could you?" The Joker cackled, apparently one of the thugs Batman had incapacitated earlier had come around and decided to take a look inside the tiny office.

The dark knight frowned and hesitantly pulled the cowl from his head. He quickly removed his chest and shoulder armor, and a second later was re-adjusting the mask. After seeing that it once again fully hid his face, Bruce began gingerly unwrapping a second bandage that encircled his torso. The other one he had on remained hidden under his body suit, but it offered little protection, and he winced in the anticipation of the pain he was about to endure. He glanced down at his body, surveying the hardened sculpted muscle that was still protectively covered by the black fabric. Years of training and hard work…Bruce sighed deeply, his only wish being that the Joker had picked someone else, anyone but his old friend. Alfred would now have to watch as his body was defaced, destroyed. He mentally steeled himself, walking back toward the door. Bruce was prepared to offer himself as a sacrifice for his oldest friend, his other father. It was worth it… Everything had been worth it. Bruce left the central core of his armor hidden behind the desk…

He would be back for it.

His gloved hand was heavy. It easily tossed the broken chair aside, and finally came to rest around the rusted door knob. Bruce Wayne exited the run down office…

But it was Batman, who stepped into the hall turning to face the Joker with an icy defiance in his hazel eyes. The Joker stood alone with his only remaining thug in the background; panic raced through his veins.

"Where is he?" Batman growled as the clown stepped aside with a magician like bow. Alfred was still tied to a chair, but a blindfold now encircled his head. Anger surged through Bruce, but he forced his feet to move forward, calmly, with a purpose. Never before had Bruce's desires matched those of his alter ego's so well. Given the chance he would have lunged at the laughing lunatic. He would have thrashed him to the point of no return, to the point of…. Batman shook his head lightly, the Joker was getting the better of him, he knew he could never live with anyone's blood on his hands. It was, after all hard enough to live with the fact that, in his mind, he had been the reason his parents were gone.

"Hang 'im high!" The Joker shouted and his blond haired flunky reluctantly grasped Batman's arm, bringing Bruce back to reality. He was shocked at how gentle the larger man was with him, then he noticed it. The burning smell that hung on his clothing, and the man was shaking terribly… he was, terrified. Now there were two lives in danger, the situation, if possible, had only grown grimmer. Batman didn't resist and allowed the former hostage to bind his hands. No amount of gentility, however, could have stopped Bruce from wincing as his arms were stretched painfully above his head. One they had been secured to an exposed beam in the ceiling, the Joker ripped the blindfold from Alfred's face, who resisted shouting, pleading to the clown for Batman's freedom. He couldn't risk any association with Bruce, it was too dangerous.

"Black… it's so depressing. It that the only color you own Bats? I won't be able to see you bleed." The Joker, despite being smaller in stature, easily knocked the Blond haired man aside, and with a dull pocket knife began cutting away Batman's last line of defense, his bodysuit, at his waste and forearms. He then disappeared from view, and Bruce resisted a gasp of pain as the blade dug into his back and drifted downwards leaving a trail of blood from his neck line to his lower back. The black fabric fell away.

"What's this?" Bruce winced as the joker viciously ripped the already torn ace bandage off his torso. A bright purple bruise stretched from the front of his abdomen and around his right ribcage. Alfred couldn't resist staring in wide eyed disbelief at the inflamed flesh.

"So… The _Bat_man is human after all… He bleeds and bruises just like the rest of us…" The Joker ran two of his gloved fingers across the contusion. He pushed hard on the flesh as his digits reached the middle of the injury; Batman cursed internally as a grunt of pain escaped his lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry… did that hurt? I couldn't hear you…" The Joker balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the already aching skin. Bruce gasped in agonizing pain, unable to curl in on himself and relieve the pressure from his lungs. The Joker wrapped his hands around Batman's exposed neck and pulled Bruce's head forward forcing him to remain face to face with the clown's own painted mug.

"I'm going to break you, Batman… like a wild stallion… I'm going to…" The Joker never finished as Bruce's masked head crashed full force into the lunatics unprotected face. Blood gushed from the clown's nose, and he fell to the floor in a heap, laughing uncontrollably. Alfred was shocked, he had never seen anyone take a hit like that and remain conscious… let alone have the gall to laugh about it.

"Now, that wasn't very nice, going back on your word not to resist…" The Joker managed to choke out between giggles. He rose unsteadily to his feet and awkwardly strode over to a supply closet. Just when Bruce thought it couldn't get any worse, the Joker reappeared from the darkness, a heavy wooden baseball bat nonchalantly thrown over his shoulder.

"You see, I'm a… a man of my word, unlike you… but seriously… Bats, I'd like you to… uhh… meet my bat." The Joker cackled as he swung the weapon into Bruce's side. Alfred and the blond haired man were left cringing as the sick clown mercilessly beat Batman, the sounds of bones cracking echoing in the old butler's ears. Alfred was going to be sick, he wanted to scream at the injustice.

Bruce's grunts soon fell silent, however as consciousness slipped from his grasp. The Joker, not finished with his punishment, had other ideas, and he quickly pulled out some smelling salts from inside his back pocket.

"Rise and Shine!" He licked his lips and grinned as he held them under Bruce's masked face. Batman's head jerked back violently, and his eyes fluttered but they remained closed.

"Oh, no you don't… you're not getting away that easy." The clown dropped the bloody Louisville Slugger and reached inside his jacket this time, pulling out a rather large syringe filled with a clear liquid.

"Nothing like a little adrenaline to get things… _moving_!"

"No!" Alfred shouted, knowing the dangers that would accompany the large dose the maniac was about to administer to his already fading charge, but the clown ignored him and laughed as he jammed the needle into Bruce's neck. Easily finding a vein, he pushed the entire contents swiftly into the unconscious form's blood stream. Within seconds, Batman had come around, convulsing violently as the drugs spread through his system. His heart was racing, and his breaths came in irregular ragged gasps. He felt all wrong, and he shook his head in an ineffective effort to clear his blurring vision. His side ached horribly, but it didn't matter. He needed to get Alfred out, and if he intended to survive this battle he needed backup…fast.

* * *

I don't really know what to say after writing that… I hope it was worth the wait!! Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.


	16. Race Against Time

So I fell off my horse today because of some other rude rider and I ended up getting pretty banged up… I can't sleep cause it hurts, so what did I decided to do while laying in bed, racked with pain… Update of course. Honestly, I think Bruce was better off not learning polo… he probably would have ended up in worse shape then he does just fighting criminals ; ) It has to be Karma… but at least you guys benefit from my excruciating pain… On with the story!!

-Part 16-

Race Against Time

Bruce's vision eventually focused enough for him to see how Alfred was holding up. His assessment, poor at best. Alfred was visibly shaking, it was all too much for his old friend to bear. He did have a plan, but of course, with the Joker, plans rarely ever worked out.

"Joker… he's seen… enough… they both have. Let them go… it's between… you and me…" Batman managed to grind out between ragged breaths. Alfred was about to protest, there was no way he was going to leave his charge alone with this madman, but Bruce's pleading glare stopped him. The Joker interrupted their silent battle of wills.

"You know what, Bats… you just might be on to something there. Blondie, you and the old man are free to go." The Joker surprisingly cut Alfred's bonds and practically threw him across the room, nearly knocking him into Bruce's heaving form. Their eyes connected for only a second, but sorrow, pride, hope and love managed to pass from his old friend's heart into his in those fleeting moments.

"Tell him where to find me…" Bruce whispered as the Joker turned back to him.

"On second thought, Why should we let you have all the fun? Always the glory hog, the… hero, never the sidekick… Come here you!" The Joker moved to grab Alfred, but Batman's boot slammed into the clown's Cheshire grin.

"Run!" Batman growled and both Alfred and the other hostage obeyed. He didn't understand what Bruce's words had meant, but he would trust his charge. The Joker quickly straightened up glaring in the direction that the two remaining hostages had disappeared.

"You know… that was a… um… a dirty sneaky trick you just pulled on me…" He sang, but his voice lost its playful tone as he continued, turning malicious and violent.

"I think you need to APOLIGIZE!" He shouted as he jammed a knife into one of Bruce's exposed shoulders.

* * *

Alfred nearly collided with someone as he dashed down a flight of stairs, Lieutenant Jim Gordon had been searching floor after floor of the abandoned building for Gotham's vigilante, and he quickly gripped the butlers arms gently but with enough force to stop him from running away.

"Where is he?" He asked, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

"Third floor, hurry… please!" Alfred was nearly shouting, fear for his charge and shock over what he had just witnessed were beginning to set in. A muffled shout erupted from above them, and Jim tore off in the direction it had originated from.

"Get down stairs, there are medical personnel hidden just around the corner. Stay there, you'll be safe." Gordon shouted as he ran up the stairs. Alfred looked away, he had other plans… ones that involved a large black vehicle.

* * *

The Joker knew what he was doing, Bruce would give him that. The placement of the blade had been precise, perfect even. It hit no major blood vessel or organs, optimal pain… minimal damage. The clown might have been insane, but he was intelligent.

The lunatic pulled the knife out swiftly, but Bruce had been expecting it and merely grunted as the cool steel exited the wound. Warm sticky blood oozed down his chest, and the Joker, enjoying the fresh rivulets like a child enjoys running through a sprinkler, dragged the blade through it, leaving several thin lacerations behind. He stopped suddenly, however, apparently noticing the Bat's breaths hitching in his throat. The clown tilted his head curiously. The massive trauma earlier had caused one of Bruce's lungs to collapse, filling his chest cavity with air. He would be dead in seconds, but the Joker had other plans.

He had recognized the symptoms, and without warning the Joker gouged Batman's side with his already stained blade, ignoring the shouts that were ripped from Bruce's throat.

"Don't die on me now, Bats. The real fun hasn't even begun yet…" Joker ground out as he forcefully wiggled the blade in-between broken ribs, and after puncturing through to the chest cavity, he replaced the knife with a rather large drinking straw that he borrowed from his left over soda.

"I want that back…" He laughed as Bruce was able to refill his lungs with precious oxygen, the pressure's absence allowing the organs to once again function normally. It had been a crude, but lifesaving action.

All of a sudden, much to Batman's relief and the Joker's amusement, Gordon broke through the locked door.

"It's getting a little crowded in here, Bats. I think I'll…umm… step out for some air!" He shouted, laughing as he broke through a window, escaping into the night.

"Shit," Gordon breathed as he took in the tortured frail sight that was the Batman.

"You're late…" He whispered hoarsely as the Lieutenant carefully cut him down and lowered him gently to the floor. Jim took the previously discarded ace bandage and used it to staunch the bleeding in Batman's shoulder. The side wound was another story entirely, and he didn't dare touch it.

"You need a hospital… I'll take you…" Jim started, but Bruce grasped his wrist firmly, especially for a man who had just endured a beating as severe as the one he experienced.

"No, they will arrest me…can't… let that happen… just… get me outside." He closed his hazel eyes tightly.

Gordon sighed in defeat; Batman was right as usual. He reached for his radio.

"Officer Mancuso, I need you. Third floor, east wing… Now!" He was practically shouting into the black device. Within seconds, the young officer came charging into the room; he soon stopped dead, however, his face falling as he took in the situation.

"No questions, just help me get him downstairs." The officer looked scared, but he nodded obediently. They lifted on three, and Bruce couldn't help the grunt of pain that escaped his cracked lips.

"Good cops…" Batman sighed as the two members of Gotham's finest carried the dying outlaw down the service stairs and out the back door of the building. They were both surprised to see Batman's tank waiting for him on the loading dock, the engine rumbling loudly. The roof unexpectedly slid open, and another masked man climbed out of the automobile. He was dressed in black from head to toe, in a ninja like fashion, his aged blue eyes were his only visible trait. He gently cradled Batman's head as the three of them laid the unconscious form in the tumbler's passenger seat. The man in black nodded in thanks as he climbed back into the idling vehicle, where they both disappeared from the police officers' views as the heavily tinted visor once again closed. The tank then took off with a roar, the blue glow if its afterburners fading into the night. They were alone. It was now out of their hands, a race against time itself. Neither of them spoke a word, but inside, both of them hoped that the outlaw, known as Batman, would somehow manage to survive the remainder of the night.

* * *

Hope you liked it… and thank you to all of the wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter… SO happy to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you hear from you all again with you feedback from this one! ;)

I'm going to try to get some sleep now, but I would love to wake up to a bunch of reviews : )


	17. The Silent Savior of Gotham

So, I was thrilled today to find an article about Christian Bale and how he loves horses and riding! Just another reason why he is the perfect guy…'sigh'…

AND WOW! over 10,275 hits and 155 reviews! Thank you to all of my readers who made that possible… I hope this chapter is a good enough reward! Enjoy!

-Part 17-

The Silent Savior of Gotham

Alfred ripped the dark mask off of his head, revealing the lines of concern that appeared to be permanently etched on his face ever since 'Batman' had started his nighttime campaigns nearly a year ago. He carefully removed Bruce's cowl as well, wiping away the thin lines of blood, that had trickled down the sides of his charge's mouth, with his gloved fingers. The older man watched Bruce's pale blood stained chest as it continued its shallow rise and fall, every breath was a struggle. It was, however, the only detectable sign of life that Alfred could see, and it scared him.

The tumbler, pre-set to auto-pilot, made quick work of Gotham's alleyways and side streets, and before he knew it, they had arrived at the familiar abandoned dock. The urgency of the situation, itself, spurred Alfred's movements on, and he managed to get the large vehicle safely inside in record time.

Then, mustering strength he didn't even know he possessed, Alfred swiftly lifted the unconscious man from the tank and onto a granite medical table, carefully resting Bruce's head down on the cool stone. He immediately set to work. Alfred once again, for the second time in two months, intubated his charge and began a blood transfusion, using blood that Bruce had previously taken from himself, at Alfred's insistence, for use in a dire emergency, such as this. After establishing a normal saline drip, and checking that Bruce was stable enough, he hung the lifesaving ruby liquid, praying that it would buy him some time.

While the transfusion occurred, Alfred began prepping for surgery. The butler had spent a small portion of his life learning military medicine, and he had, of course, worked for Thomas, Bruce's father, and one of Gotham's, if not the world's, finest surgeons. Therefore it was only natural that Alfred was more then competent in emergency medicine. After laying out the sterile equipment and scrubbing up, he pulled on a pair of gloves and began the daunting task of saving Gotham's dark knight, his Bruce.

* * *

Three agonizingly slow hours crawled by. Alfred had managed to repair Bruce's punctured lung, finally installing a proper chest tube, allowing for the removal of the Joker's cruel method of 'treatment', if it could even be called a treatment. After closing the wound to his side, he then began stitching up Bruce's shoulder, which to his surprise was merely tissue damage; he had been expecting the worst. Still it took seventy-five tight stitches before he could successfully close the gaping wound.

Alfred had just cut the excess thread, and was about to re-check Bruce's vitals, when all of a sudden, his charge's hand wrapped tightly around his own. The needle he was holding fell to the ground with a soft clatter. He knew that the injured man laying before him could not possibly be awake. Just as he had suspected, Bruce's eyes were still shut tightly, but the anguish that had previously marred the man's face soon faded into a more serene, almost content expression as he held onto his old friend's hand.

"You always were quite the fighter, Master Wayne." Alfred whispered aloud as he sighed. He sat down in a nearby chair, never releasing his grip. Bruce was out of immediate danger, and cleaning up could wait. Alfred had needed Bruce before, but he now found their rolls ironically reversed… It was his turn, and who was he to deny Batman, the silent savior of Gotham, the simple comfort of knowing he was not alone? So, he sat there patiently, holding Bruce's hand much like he had held it so many years ago. Only, now, instead of chasing imaginary monsters from a young boy's closet, Alfred's presence was chasing away very real demon's from a haunted man's unconscious dreams.

* * *

The beeping was doing nothing to assuage his head's dull throb. In fact, it was down right annoying. Every time he allowed his mind to be consumed by the sweet oblivion of darkness, the grating noise would bring him back, and for some strange reason, it hurt. Hurt to expand his lungs on his own, and the very thought of opening his eyes was another matter entirely. Now he knew… obnoxious…. that was it, the word he had been looking for… that sound was obnoxious. He needed to silence it. Bruce Wayne wondered why was it so hard to simply put an end to the blackness as he fought for consciousness. He was unaware that the insistent beeping came from his intravenous pump, his bag of fluids needed to be replaced.

Alfred jumped up from his chair that had been situated on the side of Bruce's bed. He stood up quickly, attempting to shake the stupor of sleep from his body, as well as loosen his charge's grip on his hand. Much to his surprise, Bruce's hold only tightened. Alfred sighed. He turned to pry the man's fingers loose one by one, but nearly fell back into his now vacant seat when he noticed two glassy hazel eyes staring at him. It had only been three days since the incident, and Alfred had literally just removed Bruce's chest tube two hours ago.

"Master Wayne, you should be resting. Stop fighting the drugs and go back to sleep." Bruce defiantly shook his head, making a motion with his left hand toward his mouth. He wanted to breathe on his own. Alfred sighed.

"I swear you are so stubborn! Leave it in for now." Alfred dismissed the younger man's actions, but his eyebrows rose in both surprise and horror as Bruce gripped the tube firmly. If Alfred wouldn't do it, he would.

"Master Wayne, do not make me get the restraints out!" The butler shouted in vain as Bruce, a determined look on his face, began unwrapping the tape, that was holding the tube in place, from around his mouth.

Wait…" Bruce's eyes lit up with a smile. He had won.

"Let go before you bloody hurt yourself. I'll do it…. I swear of all the bull headed things you've done…" Bruce tuned out Alfred's rant, and despite his old friend's frustration, Alfred was very gentle, removing the breathing tube in mere seconds. "…Worst bloody patient in the world…stubborn…" Alfred was still mumbling as Bruce stretched out his jaw. It was his second time this month on a ventilator, and no offence to Alfred, but he was sick of it.

"I learned from the best…" Bruce rasped and grinned. Alfred glared at him as he worked on hanging another bag of fluids as well as a new bag of Morphine, the man was going to need it as long as he continued to remain awake. Out of the corner of his blue eye's he caught Bruce tightly closing his eyes against the pain.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Alfred asked, concern evident in his tone. Bruce smiled, but his old friend knew him too well.

"All right… I've been better." He moved to sit up, but his movements quickly stilled as pain shot through his entire torso. Alfred resisted smacking his already injured charge.

"Bruce, lay still, or I swear, I will tie you to that bed!" Alfred warned, and Bruce forced himself not to laugh only because of the pain he knew it would cause him. Alfred only called him by his first name when he was truly upset with him. He was worried, but Bruce couldn't help himself. It was in his nature, he was restless.

"Yes, Mr. Pennyworth…" The younger man again fought the urge, but the laugh escaped his lips anyway, causing him to wince in pain. It left him gasping for breath. Alfred shook his head.

"It was worth it." Bruce whispered after he was once again able to relax.

"Yes, it's all so very funny when…" Alfred started, but Bruce interrupted him, this time in a more serious tone.

"No, I don't mean that… I mean what happened to me, it was worth it. I would do it again if it was required of me. Everything I have done or ever will do… it will always be worth it. I know now that if and when the time comes that Gotham no longer needs Batman… I won't have any regrets. For now, however…_teneor votis…I am bound by my responsibilities_." Bruce spoke out loud, more to himself then to Alfred.

"I know, Master Wayne… I know…" He smiled at his charge, pride flashing in his eyes.

"How about a little water, sir?" Bruce flashed a devilish grin and nodded as he took the glass in his hands. Alfred eyed him suspiciously, but Bruce, always learning from his past mistakes, took small slow sips.

"Alfred, don't say a word…" Bruce warned jokingly, he could practically read the older man's thoughts.

"Honestly, Master Wayne, I have know idea what you are talking about."

* * *

Nearing the end of the journey… and school starts on the 27th… SO, I think perhaps one final chapter should do it and it will be posted hopefully by tomorrow night… If not... then it will be up by the weekend :) Thank you again to all my reviewers and readers… you really made this story all the more enjoyable to write… so don't stop now! Tell me what you think ;) This story isn't over yet!


	18. A Storm Is Coming

Well, here it is… I put it off for as long as I could ;) It has been a rough week, but as promised I got it up before the end of the extended weekend… Enjoy the final chapter of As Dark As Knight…

-Part 18-

A Storm Is Coming

"Master Wayne, if you refuse to stay in bed, then please, just sit down and rest before you pull out your stitches…again." Alfred sighed as Bruce shuffled by him. The billionaire had been restless ever since returning to his penthouse two weeks ago, and in Alfred's opinion, it had been a rather daunting two weeks at that.

"Alfred, you worry too much. You should take a vacation, you know? Somewhere nice, with an ocean view. The sound of the ocean is said to have a… _calming _effect on people." Bruce smirked as he peered out of his floor to ceiling windows to the tiny street below before resuming his pacing. Alfred's eyes watched the man warily, but he was simply too worn out to reprimand him for the thousandth time.

"You will be the death of me, sir…" The butler smiled as Bruce turned towards him, a look of mock shock plastered on his handsome face. He laughed as he crossed the room again, finally sitting stiffly in a cushy black leather chair. He still ached all over, but his wounds were healing nicely.

"I better sit down then, wouldn't want to do that, now would I…" Alfred rolled his eyes, at least his charge's sense of humor was back. Bruce smiled, "Did you call Lucius yet, Alfred?…Alfred?" He asked accusingly this time.

"I though it best to wait, sir, you still being on the mend and all that." He returned the accusing glare. "After I was forced to replace the stitches in your shoulder wound after you deliberately tore them…"

"Alfred, I was just trying to fight the overwhelming boredom…"

"Yes, doing one handed _pushups_… with your wounded arm no less… it was a bloody brilliant idea…" He said flatly, Bruce only laughed as he opened his cell phone. He needed to talk to Mr. Fox about getting a new Kevlar chest and shoulder piece, but Alfred, much to the younger man's surprise, snatched the mobile device right out of his grasp. Bruce raised an eyebrow as he stared incredulously at his old friend.

"Alfred… is that really necessary?" Bruce asked flatly. Getting up had been the worst part of his injuries. His torso burned horribly, making the very act of drawing in oxygen difficult. The fact that Alfred knew about it only made matters worse.

"I'll just hang on to this until I feel you are well enough to go out again." Alfred patted his charge's good shoulder. His older blue eyes were bright as he quickly left the room, keeping the phone as far away from Bruce as humanly possible.

Bruce sighed, releasing his frustration, and settled back down, allowing his muscular frame to sink deeper into the cool leather. For some strange reason, a calm feeling of contentment washed over him. Perhaps his old friend was right, he though with a brilliant smile as he closed his hazel eyes, a few more days couldn't hurt.

* * *

Alfred had fought him every step of the way, but after spending almost a month cooped up inside, Bruce had finally had enough. Out here, looking over Gotham city, the only thing fighting against him now was the wind, that whipped furiously at his cape, causing it to thrash violently behind him. He grinned, the air was warmer then before, but not stifling, like he knew it would be in another month or so. Summer was coming.

Suddenly, a light struck the night sky, revealing the swirling clouds that hovered angrily over the city. A storm was coming… Bruce turned and walked back into the shadows, he knew that signal. They were calling… he was calling…

Bruce took off at a run, jumping easily from the rooftop, with the sheer reckless abandon that would have put a lion tamer to shame. He fell for what seemed like an eternity before his cape snapped rigidly into it's familiar shape and he took to gliding over Gotham's buildings, watching over them, like a dark angel.

Batman finally came to rest on the top of a brick building. It was smaller in stature compared to some of the other buildings, but high enough from the ground so that no one from the streets below could possibly see the rooftop clearly. The light, or rather, the bat signal was quickly shut off, and Jim Gordon stepped out of the shadows. He cleared his throat to make his presence known, but it wasn't necessary, Bruce knew he was there the whole time. Gordon was carrying something with him, and Batman resisted a smile.

"Thought you might like to have this back, I was able to pick it up before the boys got in to sweep for evidence. I also managed to 'clean' up a bit, so the DNA traces they would have found were… let's just say I took care of them as well." The lieutenant stated with a small smile, as he returned Batman's armor, the same armor that Bruce had been forced to abandon nearly three and a half weeks ago, to its rightful owner.

"Thank you…" He whispered gruffly, there was a deeper unspoken meaning behind the two simple words, but Gordon understood them. Batman knew he did, and he was grateful to the lieutenant… there was no explanation needed. "Did you…?" He stopped abruptly as the lieutenant shook his head. Bruce clenched his fists tightly around the newly returned Kevlar plates.

"No, he just seemed to disappear… we searched everywhere," Gordon frowned as he spoke. Thunder began to rumble loudly over head. "He got away… but something tells me we will hear from him again."

"A storm is coming… sooner then you think. Are you ready for it?" Batman growled as lightning streaked across the angry sky, causing his hazel eyes to flash dangerously. Gordon knew that the Bat was not talking about the weather.

"Do we really have a choice…" He spoke, but the dark knight had disappeared. Jim Gordon stood alone on the black tarred rooftop of the MCU staring into the blackness. " I hope you're here when Gotham cries out for it's hero… but for now, I'm just going to pray to God that you are wrong." He whispered as he caught a large shadow swoop across the sky before it was swallowed by heavy sheets of falling rain.

* * *

Well, I hoped you all liked it! Just a quick note, the final chapter is meant to connect dircetly to the begining of the Dark Knight, that is what Batman means by "the storm". :)... Thank you to all my reviewers and readers who stayed with me for the duration of the story. You really all made it worth while, and I had a lot of fun.

As for my next story, I have begun working on it! So... with that in mind... I would ask that you all remember to add me to your author alert list, that way you will all know when I begin posting it! Thanks again ;) It's been great, and I can't wait to hear what you all have to say about the last chapter!

The Dark Knight


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